Miss Stark
by Just-an-Innocent-Bystander
Summary: Amelia Mason is a genius. She gets called in to help SHIELD with the mechanics Iron Man's suit, and finally meets the infamous Tony Stark, with whom she shares many similarities. All of her quirks and characteristics point to her being his only living relative. What will happen when they find out they're related? I do not own the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Coulson is still alive.
1. Chapter 1

The sound of someone clearing their throat jarred me out of my reverie. I rolled out from under the car I was working on. As I stood up I noticed a man in a nice suit. I rose my eyebrows in question. I knew I had grease smeared on my face, and my dark hair was tucked up under a baseball cap. Overall, I knew I wasn't impressing anyone. But why would I care? I was just a mechanic in the slums of Chicago.

The man took off his sunglasses, revealing kind eyes. He nodded politely to me, bet didn't say anything.

"Okay, I'll bite." I said. "What do you need? Where's your car?"

The man smiled slightly, then answered, "No car troubles today Miss Mason. I need to speak to you about something else."

I eyed him warily. I didn't know how he knew my name. There wasn't a sign or anything. There was never a need because most people just wanted their car fixed so they could move on with their lives. Also, I was alone this evening. All the rest of the workers had gone home for the fourth of July holiday. I took a step back to my workbench where I knew my gun was tucked in one of the drawers. I didn't think I would have to use it, but you never know when it comes to strangers.

I leaned on the bench. "Okay, let's hear it."

"My name is Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, or better known as SHIELD." He said.

I squinted at him, as if that could help me determine if he was telling the truth or not.

"Have your heard of us?" Coulson asked. I nodded. Of course I knew. Anyone with wifi could easily look them up. The Avengers weren't exactly discreet.

"Your work on repulsor technology drew us to your location. It's quite impressive what you have achieved so young." He commented.

I stiffened. Not many people knew of the repulsor beams I had been "upgrading". It was my hobby, really. Something to do when I wasn't working. Coulson mentioned my age as being impressive in accordance to my accomplishments. I was seventeen and out of college already. What could I say? I was smart enough to easily slide through public education at a young age.

Before Coulson could go on, I interrupted. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

Coulson stood up straighter, if possible. "Of course, there is. I am here to enlist your help, Miss Mason. I need you to pack your computer and fly out to Malibu tonight."

"Excuse me?" I asked, grabbing a rag and a wrench to clean as we talked. "What if I don't want to?"

"You will be compensated greatly for your assistance, I assure you." Coulson argued effortlessly. "And I'm afraid I was only asking to be polite. You will be coming with us no matter your opinion. I'm sorry for any disturbance it causes you."

"Us?" I glared at him. Who did he think he was? He apparently was willing to stoop low enough to kidnapping.

"Yes, there are more agents waiting outside to escort you to the plane." I could see the apparent humor in his eyes. This was fun for him. He _enjoyed_ it.

"What's to stop me from fighting all of you?" I inquired with a smile, taking out my latest gun, all programmed with the repulsor technology I had been working on. Coulson frowned, about to say something into his earpiece, when I set my weapon on the workbench. Though my weaponry may have been superior, I was not about to start a fight with an unknown number of foes and no protective gear—say, a bulletproof vest. Hell, I was in my greasy, stained jumpsuit that had the mechanic company name stitched onto the left shoulder.

I turned around, knowing that Coulson wasn't going to do anything, and pried off the leather fingerless gloves I was wearing. I tossed them into a small duffle bag that housed my everyday belongings (regular clothes, my phone, and wallet). I closed my laptop and slid it into the bag, grabbing my gun as well, before slinging it over my shoulder. I turned and walked past Agent Coulson, who was looking very pleased with himself. I could tell he was a nice guy, but I didn't want to trust him just yet.

After we stepped into the July heat outside, I locked the doors to the shop, and tucked the keys safely in my pocket. True to his word, Coulson's fellow agents stood holding their weapons at the ready. I ignored them, keeping my head high as I walked, just as my mother had taught me.

I had learned a lot from my mother, as she had been the one who raised me—by herself, no less. My father was never in the picture, though my mother said I shared many of his characteristics physically and mentally. He was a mechanics geek too, I guess. I didn't know who he was. After a while I just stopped asking.

Back in the present, my mother was dead too. She had died a year ago from pancreatic cancer. It apparently run in her family, so I was probably looking forward to the same death. She had been a drop-dead gorgeous reporter once upon a time. I figured that's how she attracted my dad, not that he had stuck around to find out what happened to her. Such was the story of my beginnings.

Coulson gestured politely to the backseat of a sleek black vehicle, one that I knew wasn't running on fossil fuels for power. My duffle was taken from me and put in the trunk of the car. I didn't even think to grab my phone to notify anyone that I was leaving town. To tell the truth, I didn't know who I would tell anyway. My boss? He wouldn't care. I didn't have a roommate or anything because I was still renting my mother's old house. Maybe the nice librarian who I said "hi" to every Friday night when I went there to read about up-and-coming technologies with the free wifi. Honestly, my "no-connections" life was pretty pathetic.

Coulson didn't speak during our drive. I asked, "You're not going to drug me, are you?"

He didn't flinch. "No, ma'am." Coulson replied.

"Are you going to tell me why I am being taken to Malibu by SHIELD? I thought you guys dealt with superheroes and that sort of shit." This got a small reaction.

"You will be debriefed on the plane. You should also refrain from using such language. It's unbecoming of someone your age." Coulson said. I could see the light in his eyes that he was joking with me. I could work with that. A small grin settled on my lips. Coulson returned it.

We were driving out of the city, and I knew we were probably heading to the only private tarmac in Chicago. Finally, we pulled to a stop in front of a poorly lit gate, which opened after our driver had a few words with an intercom speaker. I couldn't hear anything, of course. SHIELD had planned everything perfectly, so when the car was parked Coulson and I were escorted to the jet that was waiting to take off. I was thankfully given my bag, though someone in security had trifled through it and had removed my repulsor gun. I didn't blame them. It was pretty dangerous. However, I was pretty sure that the only person who could understand the technology of the weapon was Tony Stark himself. And I doubted a billionaire like him would spare the time of day for a mechanic from the slums, like me.

Coulson sat down in front of me, a table separating the two of us.

"Are you going to return my gun to me?" I asked. Let's be reasonable here. Parts cost money, which isn't cheap—especially to a teenager trying to pay off college debts.

Coulson started, "Miss Mason—"

"Call me Amelia." I interrupted. I hated formalities. They were annoyances more than anything.

"Your gun will be given back to you upon your arrival back in Chicago. Until then, I'm afraid you're going to have to live with out it."

I sighed. "I figured you were going to say something like that."

Coulson smiled sympathetically. "Are you ready to be debriefed?"

"I'm always ready to be told top secret stuff." I held up three fingers. "Scouts honor."

"I already know you weren't a part of the Girl Scouts at any time of your life." He replied.

"You're right." I chastised myself for not remembering that they had a done a full background check on my entire life. "I was never good at the 'interaction with other people' part."

"Why is that?" Coulson asked.

I sunk back into my seat, pulling the seatbelt around my hips as the light flashed overhead. "As you can probably tell, I'm better with machines than with people."

Coulson didn't reply for a minute, just stared at my face as though he was searching my features.

"What?" I asked.

"You kind of sounded like—never mind." His speech faltered for a moment then continued on. "You are being brought to Malibu to work exclusively on a project for SHIELD. You won't get to meet any of the Avengers, but you will be working on the repulsor beams in Iron Man's suit. They need an upgrade, and there is a problem by which they won't allow changes to be made."

I rose my eyebrows. "I don't think Iron Man would want anyone to be touching his suit. I don't want to die because a man likes his electronics. Just saying."

"While that may be true, SHIELD has talked him into allowing you to work on the suit. You will be under surveillance the entire time, so don't do anything stupid." Coulson reassured me.

I put on an innocent face. "Who, me? Never."

Coulson rolled his eyes and pulled a thick file out of his locked briefcase. "These are the procedures Mr. Stark has prepared for you. I was also supposed to give you a warning not to touch anything unrelated to the repulsor technology in the hands."

"Okay," I said. "There's only one thing I don't understand."

"Which is?"

"Why doesn't Stark fix his own problems?"

"Great question." A different voice sounded from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see the infamous Tony Stark himself.

"Is there a great answer to said question?" I asked, clicking off my seatbelt. We had been in the air for a few minutes now.

"I'm very busy." Stark replied.

"Oh, busy." My tone was mocking. I didn't care. Stark and I stared at each other for a minute, taking in appearances. Meanwhile, Coulson shifted his glance back and forth, like he was trying to make a comparison.

We both looked away at the same time. Neither of us could stand the looks in the other's eyes. His eyes looked slightly deranged, as he had probably drunk too much coffee and hadn't slept well in days. I recognized this because I saw it in the mirror every morning.

Coulson continued by saying, "He just doesn't want to admit that he can't figure out the expanding repulsor technology."

Stark glared at him. "Hey, I invented that technology."

"And I built upon that technology." I stated. "Have I missed anything else?"

"No." Both men replied at the same time before throwing a glance of discomfort at one another.

"Oh, that was good. Do you guys practice that sort of thing?" I said sarcastically.

"You should be quiet now." Stark responded to my sass. "Not all people get the opportunity to work on a superhero's suit."

"Not all people get taken from their work in the middle of the night." I replied. "You know, this could be considered kidnapping because I'm still counted a minor and I don't know you people."

It was quiet a few moments before Stark turned to Coulson, saying, "The kid's got a point."

I laughed at Coulson's confused face, but I hadn't the slightest clue what he was confused about. I wasn't going to get the government involved. That would be messy. I told him so.

"I'm not worried about that." He replied.

"Look Coulson, I'm not going to get you guys in trouble. I don't want to be associated with Stark because that becomes a mess of publicity." I glanced at Stark, then said, "No offense."

"None taken. I think the best way to do this is to do it as quickly as possible." Stark agreed.

I turned back to Coulson. "I thought you said I wouldn't be meeting any of the Avengers?"

"You weren't supposed to." Coulson replied. "Stark wasn't supposed to be on this plane."

"Ah." I said as Stark rolled his eyes.

"You think I was going to let some kid touch my suit without meeting them first? No way. I'm not even sure she's qualified to—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." I interrupted. "I'll have you know I've already completed college at MIT, and graduated top of my class!"

I was proud. Of course I was. It wasn't every day that a thirteen-year-old entered one of the top colleges in the country and then graduated as the best of the best.

"You went to MIT too?" Stark asked. I nodded as he went on. I had forgotten that he had been an MIT graduate too. "What did you study?"

"I majored in science technology, and minored in mechanical engineering as well as physics." I told him. I had busted my butt in those classes to achieve the highest scores. There were a few reasons I didn't have very many friends. A) In competitive classes, no one liked whoever was on top. B) No one likes a kid who is smarter than they are.

Not missing a beat, Stark replied, "Wow. Sounds busy."

"Yeah." I didn't encourage any more questions. It made me uncomfortable to talk about myself for too long of a period.

"Why aren't you working at a better job than a lowly mechanic?" Stark asked, finally sitting down on a couch across the aisle. That was the question to avoid though. If I had all these aspirations throughout high school and college to be something great and prove it as well, why wasn't I working at a high-paying facility? Why was I a low-income mechanic instead of a business tycoon like Tony Stark?

"I have my own reasons." I replied, causing two annoyed looks to be thrown at me. They were about to protest that I should tell them when I continued, "Look, not to be rude, but I don't know you two, and it's not your business, so can you drop it?"

The men nodded and we were all silent. I didn't want to answer the question because I would have to talk about my mom. After she had died, I went into a rough patch and made some bad decisions. Decisions that were made possible because I was in a power position. Being a lowly mechanic without as many possibilities kept me and others safe from the damage I could do. I didn't expect Iron Man and his babysitter to understand that.

Considering the time it would take to get to our destination, I said, "Well, I'm going to go to the other side of the plane and get some rest. Try not to talk about me too much."


	2. Chapter 2

"Does she seem familiar to you?" Tony Stark asked, wondering why he felt like he _knew_ the strange teenager sleeping on the other side of the plane.

Phil Coulson looked at the multi-billionaire sitting in front of him. He had regained his normal demeanor after the girl had gone to sleep. "Does she seem that way to you?"

Stark vaguely nodded his head before asking, "Who are her parents?"

"There's not much to know about her other than she is smart as a devil." Coulson took out another file from his briefcase and slid it over the table to him.

Stark opened the file, seeing copies of her birth certificate, drivers license, and her multiple diplomas. He took out the birth certificate, and read aloud, "Amelia Grace Mason, born 9:37pm on October 12th… Parents: Clara Mason and… no listed father."

He continued to see that she had made no footprint in the world until she had begun researching and developing repulsor weaponry in high school, age nine. She won science fairs and math contests. Stark flipped through a few more of the pages before coming upon a document pertaining to a restraining order filed against another student. Stark read the details of the case.

Amelia had been a fourteen-year-old in college when fellow student Lyle Jacobson started stalking her, following her home and photographing her during school hours. Upon making a complaint to the school security, officers apprehended Jacobson in his home, seeing thousands of pictures and plans to experiment on her brain. Once the board at the school found out, Jacobson was expelled from MIT and was prohibited from being within a two-mile radius of her.

Stark held up the restraining order. "How did this guy not get admitted to a mental hospital?"

"He passed the exam and couldn't be taken in." Coulson replied. "Something doesn't feel natural about it though."

Stark flipped through the thin file again. Other than what he had already seen, there was nothing to tell him about her. "Why does she seem familiar?" He mumbled.

"Did you know her mother?" Coulson asked, trying to be helpful.

Stark made a confused face, repeating the mother's name over and over in her head. Clara Mason. Clara Mason. Clara Mason. "I don't think so. Why? Did she say she knew me?"

"Clara Mason is dead." Coulson answered.

"Maybe I knew her father then." Stark continued. "Even if it wasn't listed in official documents, maybe Clara told her daughter before she died."

"I guess you will just have to ask her." Was the reply.

"Ask me what?" Amelia had awoken from her short nap to the sounds of them talking about her.

The two men shared a look before Stark answered, "Do you know who your father is?"

"No. Do you?" Amelia asked, getting up and coming closer to them. The plane went over some turbulence and her steps faltered as she held onto the side of a seat in front of her.

"No." Stark replied.

"Why does it matter to you?" Amelia came closer and sat on the couch where Stark had been sitting prior.

"It doesn't." He answered. The seatbelt light started flashing, so they all buckled the belts across their laps. It also signaled the end to the conversation…for now.

"That was a very fast flight." Amelia remarked when they had landed.

"It's a fast plane." Coulson said.

"Only the best for a billionaire." She mumbled to herself. Amelia collected her duffle bag and rummaged through it until she found her phone. No missed calls or messages. No notifications for anything. She wasn't surprised.

"This way." Coulson motioned toward a very nice car that waited a little way away from where the plane had landed. Amelia had slung her duffle bag over he shoulder and wiped her hands on her coveralls. Nerves were setting in now, and she thought of what she had just done. She had just crossed the entire country on account of Tony Stark and the Avengers. Saying it so plainly only made it more insane.

-Three Days Later-

Amelia's p.o.v.

My head slumped forward against my hand as I squinted wearily at the computer screen before me. I had been awake for about fifty-six hours and counting, working on Tony Stark's stupid suit. I used to think that his technology was amazing. Now, all I wanted to do was bury it and never look at it again. Yeah sure, the technology was super cool, but the wiring was a mess. Could I tell Stark this? No. For multiple reasons.

1\. He would never rely on my word because I am a teenager.

2\. The technology, while it is messy, still works.

3\. He thinks he's God's gift to the world.

4\. Stark is never in his lab. At least, not when I'm there.

I yawned again and turned back to the arm of the suit, which I had dismantled for my purposes. Stark had graciously let me stay in his house, but I think his assistant was the one to talk him into it. I rolled my eyes a little at that. Stark was practically helpless without Pepper Potts.

I only slept when I absolutely had to, and I could feel myself nodding off. I shook my head and got up. It was bed time. My coveralls were all that I had to work in, so that had been my outfit for the past half-week. They were very dirty from the cars I had worked on in the past, as well as the small fire I accidentally started in Stark's lab. I was definitely not going to tell him about that one. It would only get me into trouble.

I climbed the stairs up to the ground level and stepped into the living room, immediately blanching at the sight of Stark and a woman on the couch, making out with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I slapped my hands over my eyes, groaning, trying to get the image out of my memory as I tried to navigate my way to the guest bedroom. Then I bumped into a table. Loudly.

"Yikes." I muttered as I kept going, knowing that the couple on the couch were surely alerted to my presence. Somehow, I made it to the bedroom and locked the door. I cringed at what I had seen earlier. For some reason, the sight of Stark kissing a woman made me sick. That made no sense though.

I stripped out of my coveralls and hung them on a hook in the closet. Miss Potts had been kind enough to buy me some pajamas, which I changed into after showering.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Mason?" JARVIS asked me, making me jump. It was difficult adjusting to the vocal system of the house.

"No, thank you." I replied, looking at the ceiling. I was laying down in bed, trying to fall asleep. It was funny how that worked. Half an hour ago I could barely keep my eyes open, and now that I had showered and gotten ready for bed, I was wide awake.

Subconsciously, I began braiding strands of my hair into small plaits, then pulling them out again. My hair was choppy and unruly, but it was easy to take care of it. All I had to do was tuck it underneath a hat and I would be all set.

I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to ignore the ticking of the clock in the hallway. It was really annoying me. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I got up and exited the room and pulled the clock off of its hook on the wall. The batteries popped out and hung the clock back up. Silence. Thank God.

I crawled back into bed and immediately fell asleep, leaving the batteries on the vanity beside me.


	3. Chapter 3

**There is a bit more cussing in this chapter than in previous sections. Happy reading!**

Tony Stark stared at the teenager in confusion as he watched her remove the batteries from his clock. What was going on with her? After the girl had interrupted him in the living room, he had sent his _… friend_ … home. It had suddenly felt wrong to be in Amelia's presence while making out in front of her. He felt _embarrassed._ That was a new one for him.

Stark decided to go down to his lab to see her progress. The place was a mess, for sure. Nothing seemed too out of order though.

"Hey JARVIS?" Stark asked.

"Yes, sir?" was the response.

"Can you play me the videos of Amelia's work?" He asked, sitting down on a stool to watch the videos. They had been sped up so her actions looked very fast. Stark tilted his head at the screen when another feeling of recognition came over him. Where did he know her from? As he was pondering this, the screen suddenly lit up with bright colors.

"Hold up, play that back at normal speed." Stark watched as the kid accidentally started a fire in his lab. He made a face as his robot, Dum-E spayed the table with extinguisher foam. Amelia coughed, expelling a large number of expletives.

"Shit shit shit! SHIT!" she yelped.

"Jesus Christ," Stark swore in response to her cussing. How old was this kid? Nevertheless, he couldn't take his eyes off of how she handled the situation. It was similar to how he would have handled the situation, only, her way involved more work.

"JARVIS? Please clean the suit while I fix the…" She paused to come up with the correct words. "…mess that I made?"

Stark paused the video and looked around the lab. There was no proof that the fire had even taken place. She covered her mistakes well. That fact only made him more curious.

"JARVIS?" Stark asked aloud.

"Yes, sir?" Came the accented reply.

"Bring me everything you can on Amelia Mason. I'll be back soon." He got up and moved to the stairs.

"I'm not sure Miss Mason would appreciate your nosiness, sir."

Stark didn't look back as he jogged up the stairs. "When has that ever stopped me before?"

He had no trouble navigating his house in the dark, but he faltered once he reached the guest bedroom where Amelia was sleeping. Was this okay for him to be doing?

Of course it was. This was his house, he should know who his guest is.

Stark opened the door just enough so he could slip into the room. Amelia was fast asleep. He proceeded to her closet where he could truly search for any clue about her. After pushing some clothes out of the way, he found her laptop. This was too easy.

Stark was about to leave when Amelia shifted in her sleep, rolling over to face the wall. Uncharacteristically, Stark moved closer to the bed and pulled up the bedspread to her shoulders. Then he left quickly, trying to ponder what had just happened as he took the stairs back down to his lab.

"What have you got for me?" Stark asked. JARVIS was quick to compile all of the information to the two centermost screens. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything else that SHIELD had missed. That left the laptop computer. The firewalls weren't too difficult to get by, and soon enough he was in. The files on repulsor technology immediately caught his eye, and he engrossed himself in reading.

Meanwhile, Amelia suddenly woke up to the sound of her phone, which was giving signals that her security had been breached. She immediately threw back the covers and pulled up the device, looking to see what had occurred. Someone had accessed her computer. Amelia checked the closet. Her laptop was gone! How long ago had it been taken? Did SHIELD have anything to do with it?

Amelia went back to her phone, turning on the locating device she had programmed. Her laptop was still in the house, and the signal looked to be coming from the lab. Tony Stark. Amelia groaned and decided to make her way down there. Stark would not be pleased with the "consequences" she had programmed into her computer if anyone tried to hack her. The thing was, if there was a firewall breach, a shit ton of viruses would be sent to the nearest computing systems. That would mean that JARVIS and the computer mainframe of Stark's electronics would soon be crashing.

Amelia came down into the lab in her socks and pajamas. She cleared her throat to pull Stark out of his reverie.

"Is that my computer?" She asked, knowing full well that it was, in fact, hers.

Starks eyes jumped to her and he slammed the laptop shut, saying, "What?"

"Why did you take my computer, Mr. Stark?" she asked, waiting nonchalantly for his answer.

"How can you be sure that this is yours?" he replied.

"The sticker on the back of the screen says Amelia Mason, so I'm pretty sure that its mine." She countered, coming closer and pointing at the sticker. It blatantly spelled out her name.

"Right." Stark said, trying to come up with a good excuse. "I—"

Amelia shook her head, interrupting. "You know, I did have some security precautions up that—"

"They weren't all that hard to get through." Stark criticized cheekily. Amelia rolled her eyes, and replied, "I know, but you're not going to like what happens when those firewalls go down without my permission."

Stark gave her an inquisitive glance. "What happens?"

Amelia yawned and squinted at the bright glow from Stark's computer screens. The viruses were already in effect. "Check your computer."

Stark whirled around to see each of the screens flash the words "ERROR: MALFUNCTION. VIRUS COUNT: 14." Then the screens went black, one after the other. He turned around to face Amelia again.

She smiled tiredly and shrugged. "Karma's a bitch."

Stark stared at her. Why was she so familiar? Amelia, though he didn't know it, was asking herself the same question. He finally told her, "You've got to fix this, you know."

"I figured you'd say something like that." She muttered and started to pull her hair into the shape of a bun and secured it with a pencil from Stark's desk. Amelia went around the tables to where Stark was sitting and shooed him out of the way with her hands. He made a face, though he did move out of the way.

"You do know that this is my lab, right?" Stark acknowledged. Amelia nodded vaguely, opening up her laptop and beginning to work.

Stark, who was not used to being ignored, tried to initiate more conversation. "Nice pajamas."

"Pepper bought them for me, Mr. Stark." Amelia glanced down at the dark gray pj set that included a soft button up shirt and matching drawstring pants.

"Why am I 'Mr. Stark' when you call Miss Potts by her nickname?" He asked, genuinely curious.

Amelia shot him an odd look, saying, "I don't think you want me calling you 'Tony', Mr. Stark."

He had immediately cringed at the thought of being addressed as his first name by the teenage girl. "You make a good point."

"Thought so." She mumbled, continuing working. After a minute or so, she looked up again. "You should be all set." Spinning around in the swivel stool allowed her to dramatically point at each screen when it came back up.

Amelia stopped spinning and stared at Stark, who was leaning against one of the tables, arms crossed over his chest. She had a curious gaze that made him uncomfortable, and he shifted in his spot.

"Mr. Stark, I've been wondering this for a while," Amelia began. "Do you know me in any way? I just feel like—"

Stark was already nodding, "I've been thinking the same thing, kid."

Amelia sighed in relief, "Really? I thought it was just me."

"I've been trying to figure that out too." Stark glanced at the clock, which read somewhere near one in the morning. "You should probably get back to bed though."

"Yeah, right." Amelia grimaced. "I don't sleep much, you know."

"Just like me." Stark commented. "How about a deal?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"We'll figure out how we know each other in the morning _together_ , but only of we both get four hours of sleep tonight." Stark offered.

Amelia cracked a smiled and held out her hand to shake, "I believe I'm already ahead of you then."

The two shook hands and retired for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Amelia's p.o.v.

It was about five in the morning when I woke to knocking on my bedroom door. It was hardly even light out, and yet someone was already wide awake. I rubbed my eyes as I stumbled to the door, opening it. There was Mr. Stark, already waving something in my face.

"Spit in the test tube." He ordered.

"What?" I asked, as my eyes finally focused on what he was holding in front of my face.

"Spit in the test tube." He said again. I gave him my best disgruntled look and said, "Dude, no! That's so weird. Why would you want that from me?"

"So we can figure out who your father is." Stark replied.

"You do know that DNA testing only works when you have something to compare the DNA to, right?" I asked. "It's not like on TV where you can figure everything out immediately. My father would have to be in some database before we ever got a match."

Stark nodded easily, though he still hadn't moved. "Humor me."

I sighed and took the test tube from him. I made sure to make an effort, spitting as much saliva as I could into the small graduated cylinder. Mr. Stark flashed me a grin in approval.

"Get dressed, we're going to breakfast." He was already walking down the hall, dressed in a suave navy-blue suit.

What was I supposed to wear? I only had the clothes that I had been wearing before I went to work in four days ago. Sure, I hadn't worn them for all that long, but it always feels kinda weird putting on something that you wore earlier in the week. I got dressed in my loose 80's style jeans (cuffed at the ankle) and a long-sleeved t-shirt commemorating a band I had liked a long time ago. Next came my combat boots. They were sort of "clunky". That's what my mother always said about them. I liked them that way though.

I was always forgetting that I wasn't in Chicago anymore. It wouldn't be super cold with a breeze. Malibu was much warmer. I tucked my phone into my pocket after messing with my hair just enough to get it bunched underneath a baseball cap. _What a great look, Amelia._ I thought to myself sarcastically. _So conspicuous._

I met Mr. Stark in the kitchen. He was talking on the phone with someone, and as soon as he saw what I was wearing, he held up the "one-minute-finger" and left the room. When he returned, five minutes later, he was dressed much more casually, seemingly matching my lousy laidback outfit. Jeans and a t-shirt worked fine, I guess.

"Ready to go?" He asked, walking backwards towards the lab and spinning a car key's keyring on his pointer finger. Why was acting so nonchalant around me? A day ago he had been on a wonderful streak of ignoring me. Nevertheless, I followed him.

"I honestly don't think you kept your side of the bargain, Mr. Stark." I commented.

"Why do you say that?" He asked as I got into the passenger seat of one of his cars. "Are you sure you don't need a booster seat?"

I ignored his taunting, not rising to the occasion. "You look far too caffeinated to have slept any more than two hours last night."

"You got me." He admitted, but didn't offer any other reply. Strange.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I suddenly asked, breaking our silence.

"What? I'm always nice."

"That's a lie and we both know it." I muttered, looking out the window. "Where are we going?"

Stark didn't even blink. "The best restaurant in this entire city."

We pulled up to a tiny curbside restaurant that only had a window to order and pay from and one lonely picnic bench pressed up against a wall. I glanced around quickly.

"Are you sure we aren't going to get mugged here?" I asked.

"Are you worried?" Mr. Stark inquired after strolling up to the window.

"I've dealt with those kinds of people before, but usually I have my gun with me to discourage any 'unseemly conduct'." I replied, still watching the parking lot.

Mr. Stark gave me a crude stare and ordered something when the window slid open. Then he turned to me, "You have your own gun?"

I shrugged. "Did Agent Coulson not tell you? I built it with the repulsor technology I was developing. Didn't you see my designs when you were snooping through my computer last night?"

"What? I wasn't snooping." Stark made a nonchalant face.

I rolled my eyes in sardonic response. "Sure you weren't. Anyway, what were you hoping to find?"

"Well, if you want the truth…"

"No, I want you to lie to me." I responded. "Of course I want the truth."

I checked my watch as Mr. Stark ignored me while getting our food. How long was going to take? I had to finish the suit then get back to Chicago before I was completely fired from my job. Who was I kidding? I lost the job when I left with Agent Coulson. No one wanted an absent employee.

"I wanted to learn more about you—" Stark started.

I cut him off. "—without having to actually socialize? You know, you could just ask."

Mr. Stark handed me a wrapped burrito and we sat down on the tabletop of the picnic table, feet resting on the bench. He bit into his and talked to me with a mouthful of food. "Are you always this bitter?"

I frowned and looked out toward the parking lot. "Yes."

"Why's that?" Stark's voice wasn't teasing anymore. I didn't have to look at him to know that he was serious.

"There's a plethora of reasons to be bitter." I replied, now glaring at the burrito in my hands. "My mother is dead, I don't know who or where my father is, I live by myself in rough Chicago…Oh, and I'm an isolated child genius with no friends."

I bit my tongue. I was _very_ bitter.

"I know something or other about that last one." Stark said.

I rose an eyebrow. "No friends?"

"Actually yes. When I was younger I had a problem with people trying to befriend me because of my money."

"That's obviously changed." I muttered.

"Not entirely. I still have very few friends." Stark shrugged.

"I was referring to the string of lovers you've left behind." I smirked, unwrapping my food.

Mr. Stark took another bite. "Anybody ever tell you that you're very sarcastic?"

"Lots of people tell me that." I took a bite of the burrito and chewed. Mr. Stark said this was the best restaurant in the entire city. Yeah, right. "This is disgusting."

"I know." Stark agreed, shoving the rest of his breakfast in his mouth.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. And then I ate my food as well. It was odd, the two of us sitting there. A billionaire and a mechanic. It was nice.

I had never done this before. I'd never had anyone take me out to breakfast and just talk to me like a normal person. Well, not since my mom died. I swallowed suddenly and started to cough. It was one of those coughs where you know you aren't choking, but there's still a scratch in your throat.

Tony Stark simply watched to make sure I was okay but didn't say anything. I appreciated it. He didn't make a scene.

"So, tell me about yourself." Stark said, leaning back on his hands. _How cliché._

"What do you want to know?"

"What made you want to be a mechanic?"

I sighed and copied his position. "My mother told me that my father was a mechanic. I guess I got it into my mind that if I became one too, I would become closer to him."

"Did she speak about him often?" Stark asked. He was intrigued.

"Not really. But when she did, she was never resentful." I smiled. "She always said that what happened between the two of them was the best thing that had happened to her because I was born."

"She sounds nice."

I turned to look him in the eye. "She was."

We grew quiet, and I became lost in thought. My mother was the best. She was one of those wonderful people who went out of their way to make someone feel loved. When I came home in tears, wondering why the other kids at school weren't like me, she just had me put on an apron so that we could bake and decorate cookies together. Work was always a second priority to her, because I always came first. To this day I have no idea how she managed to be such an amazing mother while holding a stable-paying job. It can't have been easy.

"Amelia?" Stark pulled me out of my reverie. He was already standing, ready to go.

I shook my head and hopped off of the table. "Sorry. Got lost in thought."

We got into his car and clicked our seatbelts in. "Also, I want to apologize if I was rude earlier. Sometimes I can't help it."

"I get it kid." Mr. Stark said. "Besides, I think I just became your first ever friend."


	5. Chapter 5

I finished the new repulsors a few days later. I did my job to Mr. Stark's liking, as well as SHIELD, so it was time for me to go home. Well, first I _had_ to attend a party that Stark was throwing. He said it was out of thanks for my work, but it also gave him another reason to celebrate with his "friends" and drink. His father was an alcoholic. It only made sense that he would be too. So, Pepper had bought me a dress and shoes for the event. It was tonight actually. The problem was that I didn't like parties. They were too loud, for one thing. After the party, _then_ I would go home. _Home_.

It was weird. Malibu was starting to feel like home. I had fallen into a sort of routine. I would rise early and get to work, eating when I could and talking to Stark any time he decided to drop around. In the past few days, however, it became clearer and clearer that he was trying to spend time with me. Why? I had some sort of clue.

My guess was that he got results back from my spit test, and obviously it was bad news. Why else would he be trying to compensate for something I didn't know about?

This morning, I didn't wake to my alarm. Instead, I found myself running out into the living room in my pajamas due to a fire alarm going off. My computer was under one arm and my phone in my other hand as I gazed at the room filled with dark smoke. I had to find an exit, right? That's what you do in the case of a fire. Just as I was beginning to panic, I heard an, "Ouch!" from the kitchen.

I whirled around rushed into the kitchen, where the smoke was thicker, and then saw Mr. Stark. Of course. He was standing by a window trying to wave the smoke outside with a baking sheet. He was wearing an apron and looked very disheveled. The kitchen was…well, you could say that it looked like a bomb had gone off. Flour everywhere and ingredients settled on the corners of the counters.

Mr. Stark's face read, _"Don't speak a word."_

Trying not to smile, I set my things on a clear bit of the table and began to help in any way I could. Was this his attempt at cooking by himself? I had a feeling Pepper wouldn't be pleased. I got up on the counter and turned the smoke alarm off. My feet were coated with flour, but at least my ears stopped ringing.

"So, what happened?" I asked, clearing all the dishes into the sink. They piled up quick. Stark rolled his eyes and grabbed a broom for the floors.

"I was making breakfast. Things happened." He gestured vaguely to the counters, which I was cleaning.

"It's hardly even five in the morning! How long have you been in here?"

"A few hours maybe?"

I couldn't help it. I grinned at him and he scowled. "Did you ever learn to cook?"

"Does it look like I learned to cook?" Stark was making a pile of crumbs in the middle of the room. "I spent my younger years building things—"

"—So did I!" I insisted.

"Can you cook?" He asked. I could feel him watching me in curiosity.

I scrunched up my nose. "Not really. I can make three things. Grilled cheese, apple pie, and French toast."

"How's that?"

I shrugged. "My mom taught me."

There was an awkward pause before Mr. Stark said, "You must miss her."

I looked up to meet his eyes, all joking aside, and replied, "Every day."

"I can understand that."

I shrugged again and continued to clean. It was too late now. I really didn't want to talk about it, so I changed the subject. "Why were you making breakfast, Mr. Stark?"

"No reason." He said, casually.

"Are you sure?" I checked. He made no answer. I continued, "Is it because you got some test results back? I'm not stupid. I have a degree from MIT!"

I don't know why I was getting angry. He didn't have to do a genetics test for me. Hell, I wouldn't even be here at his house if it wasn't for him. But he was keeping something from me. Something that I had been wondering about my entire life. It could probably explain why I was so weird. Why I had isolated myself completely after my mother died.

"I know you're not stupid. And it's nothing." Stark replied avoiding looking me in the eyes.

"Sure. That's why you're being so secretive." I goaded.

"I promise to tell you later." He scowled. I pursed my lips in anger. Why must this be so complicated?

"Just tell me now!" I dropped a plate into the sink with a loud crash. Nothing was broken, but it got his attention. "There is no reason for you to be holding something back from me! So, what? Am I related to a criminal or something? Do I—"

"No! Just because—"

"What is going on here?!" Pepper exclaimed, announcing her position in the doorway.

Both of us were immediately silent. She rose her eyebrows at us, expecting an answer. She turned to Mr. Stark. "Tony?"

"It wasn't my fault!" He was quick to counter.

I huffed as she moved her gaze to me. I replied, "Don't look at me. He's the one hiding information from me."

Pepper shot him a disgruntled look. "Is that true?"

Stark glared fiercely and said, "You and I need to talk." Then he stormed out of the room.

I glared at his exit while Pepper followed him. I looked around the kitchen. Still trashed. They left me to clean up the mess. I let my anger simmer as I cleansed the counters, cabinets, and floors. Then came the dishes, and finally I was done. All the while, neither Pepper or Stark came back.

Third person p.o.v.

Tony Stark watched his assistant as she read the genetic screen results. A hush of awe had come over the room, and she looked up at him suddenly. He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk, staring straight at her.

"Does this mean what I think it does?" Pepper asked.

"Yes." He replied.

"You have a daughter?" She murmured.

"Yes."

"How old is she?"

"Seventeen. That means She was born around when I was twenty-five or six. I don't even remember her mother! I haven't—" Stark was interrupted.

"Slow down. Let's think this through—" Pepper tried to console him, but it was no use.

"I've missed her entire life! She has spent this entire time wondering who her father is, and I've been here! I've been here building weapons and working on my suit and…" He trailed off, trying to come up with more reasons of his failure. "How the hell am I supposed to tell her? What the hell will she think?!"

Pepper was quick to stop his rantings. He had started to pace without even noticing, and she followed his movements. She finally caught a hold of his arms, halting him in his tracks. There was a genuinely scared look in his eyes.

"Tony, you need to calm down. Take a deep breath." She ordered. Stark closed his eyes and did as he was told, breathing in deeply, holding the air in for a second before releasing it rapidly.

Pepper continued, "You have had lots of different things thrown your way. Every single one of them, you have been able to rise above. You can figure this out—we—can figure this out."

"I don't have any idea when to start. I can't be a father. My dad—"

"You won't be like your father!" Pepper insisted. "If anything, you will be better because you know how _not_ to act."

"But what if she doesn't even want me to be her…" Tony couldn't say the word.

"She will." She confirmed. "Amelia has always wanted a father. It may not be easy at first, but she will accept you. I know she will."

Stark nodded after a moment, still trying to convince himself. "How am I supposed to tell her?"

Pepper sighed and admitted that she didn't know.


	6. Chapter 6

Amelia's p.o.v.

I stood against the wall, wishing to goodness that the party would end soon. I was observing the fools who had somehow been invited to Stark's home. I'm sure they were respectable people… when they weren't drunk. Which they were. _Very_ drunk.

I sighed to show my discomfort. How was this supposed to be a "Thank you for your work at SHIELD"? I would have preferred it if they had sent me a nice card with a plane ticket and payment in it. That would be nice. I just wanted the day to be over. Stark still hadn't told me what he had discovered, so I figured I would never find out. Specifically, I had been avoiding him as much as he had been me. The only reason I was at this party was out of respect for Pepper, who had taken the liberty of buying me the clothes for it.

The base drum of the music being played was getting on my nerves. To be perfectly honest, the music was trash. There were far better melodies to be listened to. If they looked at the sheet music for their favorite songs, they would see exactly how boring it all was. The repetition and unoriginality of it gave me a headache. Nothing bothered me more than when people couldn't think for themselves.

Watching Stark saunter around his party, drink in hand, also made me annoyed. I huffed and decided to go down to the lab. It would be quieter and no one else would be there. Perfect. Unfortunately, I was stopped by one Agent Coulson.

"Miss Mason." He greeted. I had to stop myself from grimacing in reply. I really didn't want to stand around and talk. But he had never been horribly mean to me. Well, except for when he threatened to kidnap me "with force".

"Agent." I replied as nicely as I could.

"Not enjoying yourself?" Coulson asked.

"I don't like parties." I said simply. He nodded in agreement, "Me neither."

"I was going to go down to the lab." I was trying to scoot around him. I needed to change into my coveralls before going down there. I didn't want to ruin the dress.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

I shrugged in response. "I need to change out of these clothes if I'm going to work at all. Give me a minute, will you?"

"Sure." Coulson stated. "I'll wait here."

A few minutes later Coulson and I were sitting on stools in the lab. I had traded out the fanciness for my dirty coveralls with my name on the shoulder. I was tinkering with a new design, putting repulsor technology into defense shields. It could help a whole lot of soldiers and innocents from harm.

"Miss Mason—" Coulson started.

Without looking up, I replied, "Amelia."

"Right. Amelia, do you like your job as a mechanic?" He inquired.

I hesitantly responded, "I like it well enough. The normalcy of it is nice."

He paused. "Would you ever consider leaving your position?"

"I'm pretty sure I've already been fired for not showing up to work for the past week. I covered a lot of shifts there, so they would need someone to replace me pretty quick." I answered. "Why are you asking?"

"Me and others at SHIELD have looked over your work and think you have great potential to help us." Coulson smiled slightly. "We'd like to offer you a job."

I looked up at him suddenly, startled. "Are you suggesting—"

"You could do great things. Be on a team that directly helps the Avengers—"

"And what makes you think that I want anything to do with the Avengers?" I wasn't looking at him anymore. In fact, I was just staring at the desk.

Coulson's silence told me that he was waiting for an explanation. I scowled at him, "The Avengers are a broken team. They can work well together, yes. New York has proven that. But they have too many differences. It's like bomb of energy because of the different opinions. I don't want to be around when that bomb goes off. I have too many broken things in my life as it is."

I heard him take a deep breath, then get something out of his suit jacket. Papers. "Amelia, I'm sorry to be the one to—"

"What? Is this another thing that you're not going to let me decide? Do I not have a choice in what I want to do with my life anymore?" My mind jumped to conclusions.

"You still have decisions to make, Miss _Mason._ " Coulson said. I could feel the tone of our conversation had drastically changed. He continued. "It's just whether or not you _want_ to make these choices."

I was nervous now. "What is it?"

Agent Coulson extended his hand to me, holding out a set of papers held together by a binder clip. "You'll want to look at these."

I shivered involuntarily and skimmed the first page. Genetic screening. Amelia Grace Mason. Genome. Relation. **Anthony Edward Stark.** I inhaled sharply through my mouth, whereupon my breath was caught in my throat. I blinked rapidly and read through the detailed report from the beginning. By the end, one thing was clear.

Stark was my father.

I was Tony Stark's daughter.

I gawked at the paper and then Coulson's face in horror. No, no, no! This couldn't be happening! It wasn't possible.

"Are you shitting me? This can't be right." I insisted, getting up and shoving the papers back into Coulson's hands. "It's impossible."

"Take a deep breath, Amelia." Coulson tried to persuade me to sit down. To calm down. But I couldn't. Somehow, _I knew_ Stark was my father. My brain just couldn't accept that though. I was moving haphazardly throughout the lab, looking for anything that could distract me enough. There was nothing. My breath came out in short pants, and a pressure was building up behind my eyes. I knew what this meant. I was panicking. My brain was going to go into overdrive if I didn't find a way to calm myself down. I could hear my heart beating in my ears.

Suddenly I was sitting down in a chair and Coulson had forced my head in between my knees, making my take giant gulps of air in with him. I stared at my clunky combat boots in dismay. After a few minutes, the pressure in my head had dissipated, and I could breath normally again. My eyes were watery and Coulson handed me his handkerchief to wipe at them.

I took a shuddering breath before saying, "Thank you—I'm sorry—I'm sorry I freaked out."

Coulson's sympathetic gaze softened even more. "It's okay. Just take your time."

It took about ten more minutes for me to get my full breath back to normal. Then, I had questions.

"How did they even meet?" I mumbled. Coulson knew exactly what I was talking about.

"Your mother was a reporter who," He coughed. "Caught his eye at an expo in Chicago."

I looked up at him. "How do _you_ know?"

Coulson then looked very uncomfortable. He shifted on his feet and made no answer. I was still seated but fixed him with an unwavering glare. "How long have you known?"

"A day or two after SHEILD came to pick you up at the garage."

My steely gaze hardened. He had known. And he hadn't said a single word until now. Even after he knew that I was curious about my father. My father. Tony Stark hadn't even told me about it. And he had known for days. My own father couldn't even tell me that I was his daughter.

All of a sudden, I was angry. He had no right to keep that kind of information from me! Hell, he probably told Pepper first! It would explain the weird glances she gave me all afternoon when we were setting up for the party. I couldn't help what I did next. I pushed past Coulson and jogged up the stairs, where the party was still raging. I needed to punch Stark in the face.

Coulson called after me. I didn't listen. I had a mission, and I'd go to hell before anyone could stop me. Once again in the party atmosphere, I drew attention to myself by marching straight up to Stark, dressing in my coveralls.

Then I punched him square in the jaw. "How the fuck could you not tell me?"

It took a moment for him to realize what I was talking about. Recognition flooded his features, which I had to admit were very similar to my own. "How did you—"

"Doesn't matter." I glared as he rubbed his jaw. "Just tell me why you didn't say anything!"

"Let's not do this here." Stark said calmly.

"Why the hell not?" My voice was getting louder, even though the music had been shut off so everyone could hear our conversation. I glanced around and saw that people already had their phones out, recording the entire mess.

Pepper came out of nowhere, grabbed both of our arms and pushed us toward the stairs. Fading in the distance was someone shouting that the party was over. Pepper moved Stark and I into an office room and had us sit down.

"The two of you need to talk."


	7. Chapter 7

Third person p.o.v.

The father and daughter were sitting in opposing chairs, each waiting for the other to talk. Pepper stood back, arms crossed, to be the mediator if necessary.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Asked Amelia at last.

Stark swallowed and looked away. "I was scared."

"Scared?" She cried. "You were scared? You're supposed to be the adult here! I—"

"Kid, adults can get scared too." Stark ran a hand over his weary face, suddenly looking a lot older than before. "Look, I understand that you—"

"The only thing to understand is that you don't want me." Amelia was pacing now. She began to ramble. "Which makes sense. I mean, who would want a crazy child genius, who is, in fact, very bitter about life and—"

"Woah, woah, woah! Calm down. That is definitely _not_ where I was going with that." Stark grabbed her shoulders to stop Amelia's movement.

"What?" She asked.

"I was worried about the exact same thing. That you wouldn't want me as your…" He faltered. "As your father."

"Really? Oh my god. I don't even know what to think right now."

"Me neither." Stark slowly pulled the girl in for a hug, and she gradually relaxed into his embrace. It was a new experience for both of them.

Amelia's p.o.v.

I breathed out slowly. The last time someone had hugged my like that, was when a doctor told me that my mother had died. It had been a _long_ time. A strange feeling reveled within my chest. It was something that had been gone for far too long. Safety. I had been looking after myself for a year. So even though this new development was good, I knew transitioning would be my next problem. I had a father! Part of me wanted to scream for everyone to hear and the other part of me was so shy from all the attention I would receive, just from being the daughter of a billionaire.

I took a hesitant step back from Stark—God, what was I supposed to call him? Dad? I didn't know if I could do _that_ just yet. Stark. Shit. Would I have to change my name? Would he expect that from me? Amelia Stark. It didn't sound that bad.

That's what scared me. If I took on his last name, I would also be taking everything that came with it. The fame, the reputation…hell, the money. As much as Stark's lifestyle was amazing, I couldn't live like that! Could I? It was all so extreme. I had so many questions. Unfortunately, I wasn't quite so eloquent with my words.

"What now?" I asked.

Stark rose his eyes, trying to formulate an answer. "Well, I mean— you could live here."

Live here permanently? I took a deep breath. "Are you sure?"

"Of course!" He was quick to reassure me.

Pepper stepped forward, "There's a lot to be done then."

We both looked at her. She thought it was obvious. "Amelia is going to need new identification, drivers license, all of her things need to be moved here—"

"Including my motorcycle." I interrupted.

Pepper nodded. "That's a new vehicle registration."

"Wait. You have a motorcycle?" Stark questioned.

I shrugged, "Don't worry, I wear a helmet."

"Do you?" He checked.

"Does Captain America wear a helmet?" I sassed.

"Do you really have to bring him into this?" Stark made a face. "And yes, he does. When he is in uniform, that is."

"That's only because the helmet is a part of the uniform." I sat down on one of the chairs and picked up one of the pens to fiddle with. I wasn't good at sitting still and doing nothing with my hands.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything dangerous you do?" He paused. "Extreme sports? Bomb building?"

"I am definitely not a sports kid, trust me. I couldn't catch a ball even if I was five feet away." I said. I dumped the small box of office supplies on the desk. I was starting to make one of those pencil-crossbows you see online. I had long ago memorized the formation of binder clips, pencils, rubber bands, and thumbtacks. "As for the bombs, well, I gave that up a while ago."

"You must think you're pretty funny." Stark watched my progress. I sharpened another pencil and fit it into the sling of the "crossbow". Then I reeled it back and shot it at the corkboard on the wall. The pencil hit it and bounced off, landing on the floor pathetically.

"I do all right, I think." I shrugged in response. "I'll need to get a new job at a body shop or something. I'm sure there'll be some place that needs a new mechanic."

I picked up the discarded pencil as Stark protested. "You don't have to—"

"This is one thing I won't negotiate on Stark. I've been living on my own for a while now. I'm not giving away my normalcy." I reprimanded. "I'm not like you. Attention isn't my strongest suit."

"When people find out that you're a Stark, you will have to adapt to a new normal." Pepper reminded me.

I smiled simply. "I guess they won't find out I'm a Stark then. I'm a Mason, just like my mom. I'm not going to change my name."

Stark nodded and swallowed slowly. I hope I didn't wound his pride too much. I went ahead and asked, "Is that okay?"

"Sure it is." He faltered and decided to sit down. "You know it won't remain a secret forever, though, right?"

"I get that." I said before thinking about what I was going to say after. "I guess…I guess I'm just not ready to take on that change yet."

Pepper agreed with me and then left to "make arrangements" as she put it. I stared at Stark as he stared off into space. Meanwhile, a question was burning in my chest. I had a feeling I already knew the answer. It took me a minute, but I worked up whatever courage I had. Then I asked, "Do you even remember my mom?"

He closed his eyes. I assumed it was out of shame. He didn't. Just like I thought. I sighed and said, "Come on."

I got up even though I had no idea if he would follow me or not. Sure enough, I heard Stark's footsteps behind me as I entered the kitchen. I skirted around the island in the middle to the refrigerator and pulled out an ice pack from the freezer. I handed it to him.

"Sorry for hitting you," I apologized. "I was angry and it got out of control."

"Forget it, kid. I've been through worse." Stark held the icepack against his face. He looked a lot older than his age, which I conveniently found on his Wikipedia page online. Forty-three years old. He was almost middle aged. I hoped I wouldn't cause a mid-life crisis, but no promises.

"Despite what you may think," He started. "Living with me won't be so bad."

"I didn't—"

"I'm trying to reassure you that living here won't be hell. You won't have to worry about making ends meet or—" Stark interrupted.

"And what if this doesn't work out?" I wondered aloud, motioning to the room around the both of us. "I get that you're trying to be nice—"

"You're my kid, of course I—" He tried again.

"You only found out about me a few days ago. So—" I protested.

"That doesn't matter—" Stark continued.

"It kinda does—" I argued.

"Well, consider that—"

"Hold on!" I sighed. "This conversation isn't going anywhere. It's just proving my point that living with each other is going to be difficult. And not just regular difficult. I mean good-old-fashioned-angry-all-the-goddamn-time difficult. I know I'm not easy to live with. I'm sure as hell that you aren't any easier. We're both very stubborn people."

"You get that from me." Stark was convinced.

"I _know_. My mom told me that a lot." I broke eye contact and moved around the kitchen, just because I knew sitting still wasn't going to make me feel any better. Movement is good. "She constantly muttered that I was 'just like my father'."

Stark grinned. It didn't last long, however, and it faded as he said, "Are you disappointed? You know, that it's me and not someone else?"

I rose my eyebrows. "There are worse people out there. You could have been in prison. That would have been a real downer."

"But is there anyone you would have _preferred?_ " Stark wanted to know.

"What do you want to hear? I'm not going to say that you were someone I desperately wanted to be my father, but you're definitely better than the alternative of no one at all. Honestly, I didn't think about it." I was starting to get more and more annoyed at Stark. Was this what a normal teenager felt like when they argued with their fathers? I decided to finish my statement. "When your only parent doesn't want to offer up any information, you learn not to talk about it. I focused on school instead."

Stark nodded but didn't say anything. I checked the time. About eleven-forty-five. The party had started after dinner, and time had somehow passed quickly. Unfortunately, I wasn't nearly tired enough to make myself get some sleep.

I bounced on my feet, "Is there anything I can do? I'm getting jumpy."

Stark gave me a half-smile, showing me that he understood completely. "I haven't been to the grocery store in a while."

"A mid-night field trip sounds fun." I said.

As we walked through the garage to one of Stark's cars I asked, "Don't you have someone who does the grocery shopping for you?"

"Yeah," He answered. "But I like to go every now and then and pretend I'm a normal person."

I nodded. Normal. Yeah, right. What a joke the two of us were. Like I said, though. This was better than the alternative. Being alone.


	8. Chapter 8

Stark and I walked around my home city of Chicago. He had on what I called "disguise clothes". That meant he was wearing street clothes, a baseball hat, and sunglasses. I had convinced him not to drive everywhere on this short trip. The purpose was to collect all of my belongings, but I had wanted to show him where I grew up. I had already taken him to my favorite park in the neighborhood, where I used to play when I was younger.

It was surreal to be back with someone else. I had been on my own for over a year. It was nice.

Finally, we got to my house. I breathed a little easier as I stared up at the old house, standing in all of its cracked-paint-broken-window glory. It was run down, but this was home. I turned to Stark, who looked to be contemplating the stability of the house. I smirked, "Don't worry, Mr. Stark, it's safe."

"It doesn't look like it." He said lightly.

"Nope, but it is. My mom and I painted it ourselves, and you can definitely tell which sections of the house are my handiwork, because I can't paint for shit." I laughed and jogged up the dilapidated steps to the front door. My keys jangled as I unlocked the door and turned off my alarm system. We weren't in the best of neighborhoods, but any thug who tried to break in quickly found out why that wasn't such a good idea. I may have been talentless at painting, but I knew my way around gears and electronics.

Stark didn't say anything as I shuffled around the house, picking up certain items and putting them in boxes. I knew he was blown away at the state of my home. I knew it was very different from the wealth he had always lived with. But I didn't want him to pity me.

"Hey, can you pack up all the books in the living room?" I asked, not waiting for a reply. Stark was sure to be uncomfortable, so he would probably just do as I asked. In reality, there wasn't a lot to do. When my mother had died, I got rid of most of the stuff in the house. There were too many memories. So, I had only kept the things that I determined to be of value to me. My book collection, photographs, and all of my tools were important.

It didn't take long for us to finish packing up the house. Stark called his bodyguard/chauffer, Happy, to come pick us up with all of my things. The only thing left to pack was my weapons. In all honesty it probably wasn't a good idea for me to show Stark that I had so many "dangerous objects". He came into the living room, and it's safe to say that he was a _little_ surprised. I won't say that I milked the situation, but I did flash him an innocent smile.

"This was the first repulsor gun I made." I held up a small pistol-sized gun.

"I'm still finding it hard to process that you made these things in your garage." He picked up a more recent model.

"Well, I suppose you could say that it's in my blood." I fiddled with the gun a while longer before packing it away.

"SHIELD has stuff like this that I made for them." Stark commented.

I nodded in agreement. "I know. I found some of your designs through two layers of encryption on the SHIELD database."

Stark's eyes widened. Before he could pull out his phone, I reassured him, "Don't worry. I only took a peek before I set up a much stronger system."

"That was you?" He questioned. "Director Fury asked me about it, thinking it was me, but I had no idea."

"Consider it my own personal patriotism. You wouldn't want anyone else to see things like this. Repulsor tech is just a hobby of mine. It could sell fantastically on the black market, but I'd rather not get shot by people who have the weapons I made." I yawned and finished shoving the rest of the guns in my duffle bag.

"Been there, done that." Stark squinted at the clock on the wall. "I'll have someone clean up and sell the house, if you don't mind?"

"That works for me." I agreed, looking around. "I'll miss this place, but I think it's time to let it go."

I got the mail for the last time. I had changed my mailing address to Stark's mansion in Malibu. My new home. However, there were still a few envelopes from earlier. I flicked through them as I stepped toward the car. Then I faltered, pinching one envelope by the corner to look at the scrawled handwriting that I unfortunately knew so well.

Lyle Jacobson.

My stalker from college. One of the problems of a genius mind was that you had a hard time forgetting traumatic experiences. I mean, that's normal for most, but for someone with my brain, everything was always amplified. I could remember his first contact with me. I didn't know how he did it at first, but he had hacked my computer to message me. I had been sitting in the giant library of MIT, and a live stream video appeared on my laptop. It was me, sitting there, staring at my computer in confusion. I looked cautiously around, the video portraying my exact actions.

Now, after all that I had done to make sure he would never find me, he had somehow managed to do _just that_. I opened the envelope. I couldn't stop myself. The paper inside had two words written in all caps.

 _FOUND YOU._

I shivered, glancing around haphazardly, looking for him. I knew I wouldn't be able to find anything. He knew how to hide. Happy slammed the trunk of the car, making me jump. Before Stark could notice that anything was wrong, I ripped up the paper and through it in the dumpster by the mailbox. I was moving. Lyle couldn't possibly follow me all the way to Malibu, could he? I prayed that he wouldn't recognize Stark underneath his get-up. If he did, I'm sure he could figure out where I was going. He wouldn't though. The disguise was fool proof.

Still, a little part of me said, _"He followed you from Massachusetts to Illinois. He could find you again."_

I got into the car fast. It probably attracted Stark's attention because he got in the backseat with me soon after. I buckled my seatbelt and looked nervously out the window. There wasn't much that could scare me. But Lyle Jacobson was a combination of two dangerous things: aggression and instability. The things he had wanted to do to me…I swallowed hard. You can't forget things like that.

As the car pulled away from the curb, I turned around to see my house for the last time through the rear-view window. I blinked rapidly. I thought I saw someone—No. My mind is playing into my horrors. Wait! There was someone, but they were quickly vanishing from my view. I fished my phone out of my pocket and logged into the security system in my house, which was still fully function. The hidden front cameras might have caught who had been standing in front of my old home.

It was just as I'd thought. There was someone there. I had the cameras save a photograph of the person's face and run it through facial recognition software, running the grainy image through all criminal databases. Hopefully, in a few hours at the earliest, I would get a match. That is, I would be able to know if it was Lyle or not. It probably was, but I needed proof.

I had another thought. If they had gotten the license plate number, it would be simple to figure out where I was going if that was their main goal. I turned around and asked Stark, "This is a rental car, yes?"

Stark looked up from his phone. He was watching some sort of news report with one earbud in. "Yeah?"

"Whose name is it registered in?" I implored. This answer would be vital.

"Mine?" He answered.

I sighed, though it sounded like a groan. I muttered, "Great."

"What's wrong?" Stark asked. I noticed that he nudged an odd suitcase closer to himself. Whatever. That didn't matter right now.

I avoided the question, "Is it possible for us to not return this car at the airport? I think—"

"Why?"

"Let me finish. I just think that it would be better if certain people weren't able to track me in this car that is being rented by you." I tried to act nonchalant, but it didn't work.

"If there's a problem, you need to go right ahead and say it." Stark warned.

I glared at him. Why did this have to be more difficult than it already was?

"Amelia." Stark urged further and I flinched at his tone.

"I saw someone back at the house, okay? And if they're who I think they are, they could have gotten our plate number, hacked into the rental service database, and see that this is your car. That means they will know I am with you, which means they'll know my location. Get it?" I spilled. I was too stressed about this. I needed to calm down.

Lyle wouldn't try to get to me through Stark, would he? I mean, would he try to go against Iron Man to get to me? I hated to admit it, but Lyle was smart. Smarter than I even knew.

"Is this about Jacobson?" Stark asked suddenly.

My eyes snapped to his. How did he know?

"I read your SHIELD file." Stark continued.

I scoffed and looked out the window. "Of course, SHIELD has my information. Is nothing private in this country?"

"Not really."

"And Coulson had the nerve to ask me to work with the Avengers, God—" I was rambling now. If there was one thing I couldn't stand, it was agencies. Especially ones that thought they knew me because of my record.

"Wait, he did what?" Stark sat up straighter.

"Don't worry, I turned him down."

Stark looked confused when I glanced at him. "You—Why?"

I rose my eyebrows. "As much as I appreciate your superhero boyband—and I do, I promise—I don't want to take care of the entire planet. It's too fucked up."

He seemed offended by my words, which made me regret them a little, but I didn't apologize. I checked my phone for a recognition response, eve though I knew there wouldn't be one. There were too many criminals in this country.

When I looked up again, we were getting off the highway and driving towards the airport. Too late to change cars and disappear now. As Happy pulled up to the 'drop-off' sector, I noticed people without suitcases standing around. What's more, they had cameras. This day couldn't get any better.

I connected the dots in my head. Whoever was outside my house did, in fact, get the plate number and figure out who the vehicle was registered to right now. Then they tipped off the media. If we got caught in this thrall, I knew something bad could happen to me.

While I was thinking about this, Stark leaned forward to talk to Happy, "Why are so many broadcasting stations here?"

I pulled up the latest feed of gossip sites. There was a picture of me, Stark, and Happy packing up the car. The titles ranged from _"Who Is the Girl with Tony Stark?"_ to _"Iron Man's New Interests"_.

I showed both of them the sites. "This is an ambush."

Though the windows were thankfully blacked out so people couldn't see in, I still felt like I was sitting in a fishbowl. My phone dinged. Facial Recognition? That was way too fast… The match was found though. Lyle's FBI case file opened on my phone. It was him.

 _FOUND YOU._

I remembered his earlier words. He had found me indeed, and like the clever rat that he was, he had laid the perfect trap.


	9. Chapter 9

"How do we get out of this?" I asked, eyes downcast at my shoes. I was wearing my mother's old Doc Martins, scuffed and falling apart as they were.

"We need to cause a distraction." Happy called over his shoulder.

"The plane can wait for us. We just need to find another entrance into the airport." Stark thought aloud. "I think I can make something happen."

I watched in fascination as Stark used his phone to get into the blueprints of the buildings surrounding us. It was like a movie, the plot unfolding before my eyes faster than I had thought possible. No wonder my mother always told me I was like my dad. This was evidence to attest to his genius and mine.

Happy swerved back into the street per Stark's directions. I couldn't help myself and looked out the window behind us. It was just my luck that I did because we had a motorcycle following us. For some reason, he looked oddly familiar. I alerted the others. "We got a chaser."

Stark glanced back too. Then he decided to open his mystery briefcase of his. Stark's Iron Man suit practically sprang to life from inside the case. It built itself around Stark—that is until it stopped where his body met with the seats of the car. Then he had to struggle to lift his body away from the seat, all the while Happy was shifting through traffic, throwing the both of us around. It would have been funny if I hadn't been hit in the arm by one of Stark's flailing arms. It hurt more than I would have liked to admit.

I checked to see if the motorcycle man was still there. Yep. He had goggles on to protect his eyes, but no helmet.

Wait a minute… The hair looked really familiar. Blond. Broad shoulders. A fixed stare.

I put the pieces together.

I leaned forward so that Happy could hear me clearly. "Find somewhere to pull over. Be discreet!"

"What about the guy following us?" He asked hesitantly.

"Shouldn't be a problem…" I made a face. "I think."

Despite doubting me, Happy did as I asked without asking any more questions. He found us a back alleyway and parked, keeping the car on in the need of a hasty getaway.

Stark got out of the car first. I wanted to make sure the chaser was who I thought it was. Besides, I didn't have a suit of armor in my suitcase. Better to be safe than sorry. After the goggles came off, I got out of the car too.

"What are you doing here, Rogers?" My father asked, practically incredulous. The front portion of his helmet was gone so that we could all see his face.

"Maybe we should both be answering that question." Captain America was looking at me. I stared back uncomfortably. If there was one thing, besides mechanics, that I was good at, it was definitely making a situation more awkward than it needed to be.

Stark turned to me. "How did you know it was him?"

I glanced at Rogers and then back at Stark. "The hair."

"What?" They said at the same time. That only made this conversation more unpleasant. I understood that Stark and Captain America didn't always get along.

"The hair." I repeated. "And I'm going to take this moment to say I told you so."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Stark asked.

"We talked about this." I nodded, trying to get him to remember. "He only wears a helmet when he's in uniform."

"You're bringing this up now?" Stark rolled his eyes. "I thought we had bigger problems!"

"We do! But we've avoided them for the moment." I shrugged, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. "I'm just saying—"

"We can talk about this later. Right now we need to—"

Captain America coughed and the both of us stopped our bickering to look at him.

"Could you please tell me who you are?" He asked politely.

I shot Stark a warning glance before saying, "I'm Amelia Mason."

I offered my hand, which he shook, his grip surprisingly gentle with mine. He said, "Steve Rogers."

"Right." I replied, nodding.

Rogers then asked the both of us, "So, how do you guys know each other?"

Not blinking, Stark said, "It's complicated."

"I'm kind of…" I tried to explain. "An intern?"

"Sure." Rogers said. He obviously didn't believe me, but he wasn't going to make me tell him the truth. I mean, I was just a kid compared to him, right? He was born in what year? I mentally pulled up all that I could remember from his Wikipedia page. 1920? That sounded like it. Plus, politeness? That was huge all those years ago.

"Are we just going to stand here and stare at each other?" Stark asked, jarring me out of my reverie.

"What's the problem?" Rogers asked, still watching me warily. Was that an old person thing as well? I had no clue. I had never spent time with anyone besides my mother. In hindsight, this was probably for the best. I was a weird kid. I didn't make friends. Back to the point: I didn't know old people. Unless you counted my father…who was only 'old' when compared to my current age.

I had zoned out again. I caught the rest of Stark's statement, "…the airport is clogged with reporters and we need to make sure Jacobson doesn't—"

"What we need to do is get home." I blurted. "I mean—back to Malibu. Lyle won't let himself be caught, so forget it."

Both men stared at me, making me shift on my feet.

"Stop looking at me like that." I scowled, shoving my hands back into my pockets again. It was a defense mechanism, not that I would admit it.

Rogers glanced at Stark, and then back at me. I hoped he wasn't putting the pieces together. Were we really that similar? I decided to draw their attention back. "Okay. Here's the plan if you want to help, Rogers. Stark and I are going to hit a thrift store. Happy is going to drive you back to the airport and drop you off. That should be enough of a distraction that Stark and I can sneak onto the runway. In return for your efforts, Rogers, Stark will fly you anywhere you want to go. Then, he and I are going back to California. How does that work for everyone?"

Neither said anything, but both looked skeptical. I nodded, "Works for me."

I got back into the car to wait for Stark. My plan would work. I knew it would. So why was I so nervous? Maybe because Lyle is the only thing I'm afraid of.

Happy didn't say anything, just gave me the 'sup' nod. I shrugged that pointed behind me towards the two "heroes" conversing with each other. I could practically imagine what they were saying:

 _Rogers: "Who is she really?"_

 _Stark: "Oh, just my daughter, who I didn't tell you about because I didn't know."_

 _Rogers: "Oh, cool."_

 _Stark: "Thanks, I know."_

I shook my head. What was I thinking? I was even more jarred out of my reverie when both men got into the car. Rogers sat up front with Happy and Stark was next to me, his Iron Man suit reversing its operation and shrinking back into suitcase size.

"What about your motorcycle?" I asked.

"Someone from SHIELD will pick it up." He waved a cellphone in the air, staring at it vaguely. Rogers would probably never fully adjust to the technical improvements.

Stark and I were dropped off at the nearest thrift store. He looked at the merchandise with semi-disgust. I rolled my eyes. Billionaires. You can't take them anywhere. I pulled through the racks and grabbed myself a new jacket with a hood and a pair of sunglasses. I was lucky that the press hardly knew me. If I disguised myself a bit, no one would tell the difference. Stark, on the other hand, was going to take a little more work.

Sure, sunglasses and a baseball cap work for a walk in the park. With reporters though, who were specifically looking for him, Stark would need more than I would. I turned to him, "You got anything yet?"

Stark was smelling an old button up shirt. I huffed at him, "It doesn't have STDs, I promise."

Stark rose he eyebrows and put the shirt back. I smiled mischievously when I spotted the hideous Hawaiian shirt across from me. I picked it up and waved it at him, watching the disbelief settle in his eyes. I nodded and tossed it to him. Stark caught it deftly. I collected a bucket hat, some khaki shorts, and a fake lei necklace. This was going to be perfect. I ushered Stark to the register, where the teen working there looked like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"You're not dreaming." I said. "This will be all."

Stark handed over some cash and I pushed him towards the changing room. Stark pulled the curtain closed dramatically. I couldn't wait for this. The kid at the register went to the back, leaving me alone, waiting. I slid on my new jacket and shades, hopping onto the counter and dangled my feet.

The curtain slid open, revealing…a middle-aged man who has recently gone on vacation. Perfect! I let the sunglasses slip down my nose and I rose my eyebrows. The look on his face! I burst out laughing at his expression.

"This needs to be documented." I insisted, pulling out my phone. Stark protested immediately, putting his hands up to stop me. I snapped a photo. I hopped off of the counter and spun around, then took a selfie of the both of us.

"You gonna smile this time?" I asked. I watched Stark's face in the camera. He squinted and then let his face melt into an easy smile. I grinned in response, then clicked the picture. I stepped away, already moving to the door.

"We need to catch a cab to the airport." I pulled up the hood of my new jacket. Stark joined me on the sidewalk holding his old clothes awkwardly.

"Why do I feel like you're enjoying this a lot more than I am?" He questioned. I put my fingers up to my mouth and whistled for a cab. One pulled up to the curb in less than five seconds. Stark frowned as we climbed into the car. "I never could do that."

I checked the internet for the latest developments. Video clips appeared, titles ranging from _"Captain America Spotted!"_ to _"Avengers in Chicago? The Latest Developments Found Here."_

"The perfect distraction." I showed him the news feed. Before I knew it, we were sitting on Stark's private jet, clicking our seatbelts in as we took off. Rogers was reading a newspaper, wearing a pair of readers glasses when we got there. He whipped them off once we entered, of course, but I noticed. I passed him and offered a smile.

"Where am I taking you?" Stark asked him, standing at the bar and pouring a drink. I huffed and crashed on the couch.

"Back to D.C." Rogers replied, looking out the window.

I curled up on the couch, deciding to get some sleep. The two men settled in across from each other, planning to talk. I made sure that I faced the wall and put in my headphones. I needed to de-stress, and that wouldn't happen if I could hear two "superheroes" talking. I fell asleep, the last thing I remembered being a blanket settling over me.


	10. Chapter 10

Third Person p.o.v.

Steve Rogers watched as Tony Stark put a blanket over the young girl. There was care expressed in his features, softened eyes and a calm countenance. There was something between the two of them, but he couldn't tell what. Not yet at least.

"So," Steve began, glancing in between the two. "Are you going to explain what's going on? For real this time."

Tony swallowed a gulp of his drink, the amber liquid disappearing down his throat. He watched Amelia sleep. Her breaths were coming out steadily but in short huffs, as if she were trying to take in enough air each time. There was fear in his eyes. This was something that Steve did not miss. However, it confused him greatly. Why was this man, a multi-billionaire who has faced terrorists and aliens, afraid of a teenage girl?

Tony rested his glass against his knee. "She's a mechanic."

Steve waited for him to continue, knowing full well that he would.

"SHIELD sent her to me, because of her work on advancing repulsor technology, which she built in a _garage_." Stark explained. "We met, like, four weeks ago. Lyle Jacobson is someone she had problems with when she was younger. He wanted to some weird shit with her brain, which is highly progressive for her age."

"Why is Jacobson on the loose?" Steve asked.

"Beats me. He's very good at disappearing." Tony shrugged.

"And he's still following her movements?"

Tony watched her shift in her sleep. "It appears so."

"What are you going to do?" Steve looked uncomfortable. There was very little he could do to help, but he would do his best, if Stark asked for his help.

"I don't know. If she can't find him, there's no way that I could." Tony sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes.

Steve, meanwhile, stared back at his form in confusion. How could a girl so young have more tracking skills than Tony Stark, a man who had made millions through technology and weapons manufacturing. It didn't make sense.

"Anything else?" Steve asked.

Tony wearily opened his eyes, "No?"

"That's not an answer." Steve muttered and looked out the window. The two didn't speak for the remainder of the flight to D.C. When they got there, Steve left, leaving the odd pair behind. He still felt like he was missing something though. Maybe he would have Natasha look into it.

Amelia's p.o.v.

"Kid. Wake up. Come on, kid." Someone said as they rubbed my shoulder awkwardly.

I processed the voice again and peeked my eyes open, squinting at the light. Yep, it was Stark. And he looked very uncomfortable. I rolled my eyes wearily and shifted on the couch into a sitting position. I could sleep practically anywhere. I wish that was a recognizable talent.

"We're landing in a few minutes." Stark cleared his throat. He settled back into his own seat. I should probably mention that he didn't look at me for the remainder of our flight.

Was that normal? I hated to think it, but he had ignored my presence for seventeen years. It was going to take time for him to get used to me, right? Or…maybe I had done something? Gosh, this wasn't easy. It was like trying to communicate with a baby. No matter how much you look at them, they have no idea. He was supposed to be my parent. My _Dad_.

I still couldn't bring myself to call him that. Was that normal?

Ever since I had met Tony Stark all I could think of was questions. That was a problem. With a hyperactive mind like mine, I could do some serious damage while trying to get answers. I just needed a distraction. Like a job. That's it. I would look for a car shop opening as soon as we got back to Stark's house.

Pepper was waiting for us when we got to the house. She gave Stark a light hug, and I could visibly see how he relaxed around her. It was nice that he had someone like that. I decided to leave the two alone. I would just get in the way. Besides, moving into my room sounded much more interesting. I set up all of my computer monitors on my desk. It was my own mini-lab, no where near the size of Stark's, but it was _mine_ , and that was important.

The vastness of Stark's wealth was nerve wracking. I was coming from a place where I had to work for my money. If I wanted anything, I had to go out and get it myself. I'm pretty sure if Stark wanted something, it would magically appear in his hands.

Okay, so maybe I was exaggerating. I was getting off the point anyway though. Right now, two things were top priority: 1. Track down Lyle. 2. Find a job. Simple enough.

Once all of my hardware had been unpacked and connected, I got to work. I hacked into Stark's security cameras around his house so that I could monitor them myself. Then I got onto the cameras at all of the airports within a 50-mile radius. If Lyle came through an airport, I would have a better chance of knowing about it. If he had driven all the way here, finding him would be trickier.

Something Agent Coulson had mentioned the first time we met had been bothering me for a while. He had a folder with my name on it, after all. Technically I wasn't hacking into SHIELD. They already had something with my name on it. That was going to be my story when I got caught.

I knew it would only be a matter of time as to when they would catch me. SHEILD was one of the biggest agencies in the world with some of the top analysts. I would get in, grab what I needed, and then wait for the day that Coulson showed up on Stark's doorstep.

I decided that the best way to buy my time was to cause a discrepancy in another system level to distract them for a few minutes. I broke through some firewalls, replaced some code here and there, and then moved on. When I searched for my file, however, it came up as 'MISSING'. That was odd. I looked further. The last known person to access my file was—shit.

Was I reading properly? Yep. Two words. Natasha Romanoff. I was one of the few people outside of SHIELD who knew who she was. The Black Widow. If she was looking into my background, well, let's just say that I wouldn't be a mystery anymore. In fact, she would know everything. Especially the fact that I'm Stark's daughter. I swallowed hard. I wasn't ready for everyone to know that yet.

Would Romanoff out me to the rest of my dad's superhero boyband?

Wait, _dad._ I just thought of him like that. Am I slipping up or something? It was just a slip of the tongue, I tried to convince myself.

A knock at my door jolted me upright. I clicked a few buttons to put my computers to sleep as I said, "It's open."

Stark peeked into my room, eyeing the fact that the only unpacked items were my electronic devices. "Just the computers?"

I shrugged as a reply.

"Are you hungry?" Stark asked. After a moment, he added, "Pepper wants to know."

I rolled my eyes and got up. "Do we have real food in the house?"

"Not really. We can order something." He started to lead me through the hallway. "Can't really leave right now."

"Why not?" I asked. It was a weird thing to say, after all.

"There are a bunch of reporters out there and I'm sure they're not above following you wherever you go." Stark was entering the kitchen as I looked through the front window shades to see all of the spectators.

"Am I on house arrest?" I called out.

Pepper poked her head out from the kitchen. "Why would you say that?"

I sighed internally before responding, "Never mind. It was a joke."

I came into the kitchen to join the two adults. They were discussing what food we should order. I kind of zoned them out. I would just end up agreeing with whatever they came up with. I wasn't a picky eater. Delicious or disgusting, I could stomach both.

"Fast food chains don't deliver, Tony." I heard Pepper argue.

"I'll make them deliver." Stark countered. Could they honestly hear themselves? They sounded like they were ten.

"Chinese food it is." Pepper decided. "Write down what you two want and I'll order."

We did as we were told. It wasn't worth fighting over any longer, apparently. A good forty-five minutes later, we were still waiting. Some things never change.

Finally, the doorbell rang. Stark jumped up to get it and Pepper and I sighed in relief. I was hungry now. I got water for the three of us. We were going to sit down and have a family dinner—

Woah. Family?! We weren't family!

Where was Stark? He was taking too long. How long does it normally take to pay for Chinese food?

Pepper was getting tired of waiting too. She called out, "Tony?"

Not a moment later he walked in with an annoyed look. A second passed and in came Natasha Romanoff. I nearly dropped my water glass. I didn't need this right now. I sank into a chair and kept my eyes on the table. I could _feel_ her gaze on me. I shivered.

"Can you reiterate why you're intruding in my home?" Stark asked.

"Cool it, Stark." She said. "Be happy I used the door."

He rolled his eyes. "There are too many women in this house."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Pepper made a face.

"Nothing. Romanoff, why are you here?"

Natasha welcomed herself to a chair across from me. I didn't look up. If I did, we would meet eyes and I wouldn't be able to look away. That would open another door of possibilities that I did _not_ want to get into.

"Steve mentioned that you were acting strange around…her." She looked to me. I couldn't help myself. I glanced up and held her eyes. She continued, "Amelia, was it?"

"Nice to meet you." I said clearly. Romanoff smiled.

"I got your file from SHIELD." She was now speaking solely to me. "But I think you already knew that. Can you answer one question?"

I looked to Stark, already guessing what she wanted me to confirm. "As long as he promises that no one else in his superhero boyband will show up here."

Yeah, real smooth right? I saw all of the adults cringe at my personal name for the avengers. Without waiting for anyone to reply, I said, "The answer is yes."

Romanoff's eyes didn't leave Stark's face now. "Why didn't you tell the team?"

Stark glared. "That doesn't matter. The real question is: are you going to tell the team?"

"Can you guys stop calling it a team?" I asked honestly. "It sounds like you guys get together on the weekends to play soccer or something."

I was ignored. Huh. Adults are good at that. Maybe it was just this group though. I still held out some hope for Pepper.

"It isn't something that I should tell. That's your business." Romanoff came to the conclusion after a moment's pause.

"Funny how that didn't stop you from getting involved." Stark huffed. The doorbell rang. It must have been the Chinese food at long last.

"I'll get it," I muttered. Stark stealthily handed me money as I passed him. I was happy to be out of that room. You could the cut the tension in the air with a knife. I got the food and sat down in the living room. No way was I going back in. I ate my food. It was well worth the wait, for once.

Yeesh. Two avengers in one day. It was kind of mean to say, but it was exhausting being around them. I didn't know how Stark managed it. Anyway, I had dodged a bullet today. My secret was still safe.

Sort of.


	11. Chapter 11

It had been a few weeks since the Black Widow had invited herself over for dinner. I was kidding; she left before I had even finished eating. There was still no word on Lyle. That was only to be expected though. He was sneaky.

I got myself a job, just like I told my self I would. There were a lot of perks about being Stark's kid, but not among them was the ability to be discreet. I had to practically sneak out of the house to go to work. Once I got there though, it was like I got my old life back. Fixing cars was always calming. All of the parts would ultimately fit together perfectly to make a cohesive machine. It gave me hope, I guess, that even with all the crazy pieces of my life, I could one day achieve a semblance of normalcy.

I went into work today and started working on this older model. The owner, Nathaniel, had been coming in practically every other day to have his car looked at. He wanted additions to be installed, pieces replaced, that sort of thing. Nathaniel was an older man, an I think he just wanted to get out of the house and have something to do. I was underneath his car at the moment, checking up on some of the repairs I had made earlier. He sat on my stool, just watching my feet, which poked out from underneath.

"How does it look, Chief?" Nathaniel asked. That was another thing. He called me "Chief". None of the other mechanics liked to put up with him, so I became his regular. I didn't mind though, because despite what everyone else thought, Nathaniel was a real sweetheart.

"It's all good from down here." I replied, rolling out and grabbing a rag for my hands. I wiped at the sweat on my brow and smiled at him. "I just need to check up on the transmission fluid and then you'll be all set."

"I have all the time in the world, so there's no hurry." He grinned.

I made conversation. "Any other plans after this?"

Slowly, the happy smile that had graced his features slipped down his face until there was little trace that it had ever been there. I watched him out of the corner of my eye.

He finally answered, "Just need to visit my wife, like I do every Friday."

I glanced at him with a sad smile. He really loved that woman. Still called her his wife, never remarried, and visited her every Friday, come sun or rain. He seemed sadder today, though.

"How long has it been since you lost her?" I asked, moving my eyes back to the car.

"Three years, today." Came the reply. I looked up at him and he was hesitant to meet my gaze.

After a moment's consideration, I said, "I don't normally do this sort of thing, but would you like me to come with you? I get off work in…" I checked my watch. "In thirty minutes. We could get some flowers and go see her…"

I trailed off and leaned on the frame of the car. I hoped he wouldn't think I was being too forward. I wanted to help.

A small voice replied back, "I would like that."

I grinned in relief. "You could tell me how the two of you met?"

I didn't like to admit it, but I was a sucker for old-fashioned love stories. My mom was too, which was why it was so frustrating that she never got one of her own. She and my father had a "whirlwind romance". He blew into her life like a monsoon storm and was gone the next morning.

Nathaniel waited until I got off my shift. We drove to a local florist's and picked up yellow tulips. Nathaniel's wife, Grace, had grown them in her garden. It wasn't until we were walking through the grassy graveyard did he start talking about her.

"Grace and I met at the county fair in the north. Our mutual friends decided to set us up, and as soon as I saw her," He sighed. "As soon as I saw her, I knew she was the one I wanted to marry."

The story carried on, and we sat down on a bench a good distance away. We could still see the flowers we had left there. It was about five o'clock, and the sun was starting to sink towards the horizon. After a while of silence, Nathaniel turned to me and said, "Thank you. For listening to an old man rave about his better years. And for not asking how she died."

I simply nodded. I couldn't find it in me to speak.

"She didn't die normally, if you were wondering." Nathaniel looked pointedly at her grave marker. I watched him, a little perplexed as to what he could mean. He continued. "We were on vacation in New York when she was killed by one of those aliens. I forget what their names are, but had that not happened, Grace would still be here today."

It was really sad. And the worst part was that I couldn't do anything about it. That brought forth another reason why I liked working with machinery. You can fix things for certain when it's made of gadgets. You can't do that with human emotions.

"It's getting late," Nathaniel decided. "You should check your phone, too. It's been buzzing a lot."

I hadn't even realized. I pulled it out to read:

 **14 new messages. 8 missed calls.**

"Damn it." I muttered. I looked up suddenly and apologized. "Sorry."

Nathaniel laughed, "I've heard worse, Chief, don't worry about it."

I unlocked my phone. All of the messages were from my dad. Yeah. I had started to call him that in my head. I hadn't found the guts to call him that out loud yet. Everyone has hurdles to jump over in life, and this one was one of mine.

"Somebody missing you?" Nathaniel asked as we started walking back to his car.

"Just my dad." I answered simply. I scrolled through the texts. They started out normal but got more frantic as they continued. I figured the calls would be like that too. By the end he was doing that parent thing where he typed in all caps, as if doing so would make his text come in louder. I rolled my eyes and read the last one.

 _If you don't answer me in the next five minutes, I'm coming to find you._

I choked on my own spit. Coming to find me? Dear goodness, something must have been wrong. I dialed his number and waited as it started ringing. Then I heard a familiar sound from behind me.

I turned around to see my dad land. He was in his Iron Man suit, but the face helmet was off, so I could see his expression. I would say he was not pleased, but that would be a bit of an understatement.

I heard Nathaniel gasp as I asked, "Was this really necessary?"

"Yes. Who is this?" Dad pointed at Nathaniel rudely.

"A friend of mine. You need to calm down." I mentioned.

"Your computer has been going off for hours. Jacobson was seen in an airport. You weren't answering me, so I assumed the worst and—" He had a good argument.

I rose my hand in defeat. "Fine, you win this round. I still don't think the suit was necessary though."

"Chief, aren't you going to introduce us?" Nathaniel rose his eyebrows in expectation.

I sighed, "Nathaniel, this is my dad. Dad, this is Nathaniel."

My father just stared at me. _Shit. Did I just call him "Dad" out loud?_

I moved on quickly, as if that would distract from what I had just said. "We should probably get going. Nathaniel, I'll walk you to your car."

I linked his arm around mine and started walking. I didn't know if my father would follow. I threw a glance over my shoulder. He was still just standing there. Damn. I didn't know that was going to be his reaction. I actually had no idea how he would react. I thought he would be more dramatic though.

"Why didn't you tell me that you're Iron Man's daughter?" Nathaniel asked. "I can definitely see the relation, now that I've seen the both of you."

I sighed, "I don't really like to mention it."

"I can understand that, I suppose." He replied. "I didn't know he even had a daughter."

"Well, neither did he until a few months ago." I mentioned.

"Oh." Nathaniel coughed.

"Yeah." I nodded. "Back there was actually the first time I called him 'dad'."

"Is that why he hasn't followed us?"

"I'd imagine that could be a contributing factor."

Third Person p.o.v.

Tony Stark couldn't believe it. She called him "Dad". He couldn't believe that he was still standing there, wiping at his eyes like a crybaby. Stark took a deep breath. The day was already getting too complicated.

He took a deep breath as JARVIS spoke in his ear, "Is something the matter, sir?"

"Why would something be wrong?" Stark asked in denial.

"Your skin temperature rose for a minute, sir." JARVIS reported.

"I'm fine." He insisted and began to trail after his daughter and her "friend". It didn't make much sense that Amelia would be friends with someone so old. How did they even become friends? Shouldn't she be making friends with people her age?

"She is probably very similar to you, sir. You didn't have many friends when you were her age." JARVIS answered. Had he been speaking out loud? He must have.

"Hey, I had plenty of friends when I was her age." Stark contended.

"Keep telling yourself that, sir."

Stark rolled his eyes and caught up to Amelia by the time she waved goodbye to Nathaniel.

"So…" She said.

"Yeah." Stark responded. Neither knew exactly what to say. "You called me—"

"I know what I said." Amelia swallowed nervously before continuing. "Do you—do you mind?"

Stark rose his eyebrows in surprise. "No! I mean—I don't mind…unless you do?"

"You're not making much sense." She looked at him pointedly.

"You can call me whatever you want." He clarified.

"Gotcha." Amelia shifted on her feet and shoved her hands in her pockets. "So, how are we getting home?"

Stark replied, looking down at his suit, "We could fly?"

"I don't think so." Amelia scoffed.

He nodded back to her, "I'll call Happy to come pick us up."

"Yeah."


	12. Chapter 12

"So, I'm basically on house arrest?" I asked, dramatically falling back onto the couch in the living room. It was late morning, and I was still in my pajamas.

Dad shrugged and continued to wipe at his hands with a rag. "Pretty much."

"What do you expect me to do around here?" I complained. "Play in the back yard?"

"I'm sure you'll come up with something." He was starting to walk away.

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked, getting to my feet and following him. I got a running start and slid after him in my socks. The problem was that I went to fast and accidentally ran into the wall.

I hugged my arm to my chest. "What are you going to do?"

Dad sighed and turned around to look at me. "If I tell you the truth, will you promise to stay here?"

"With an answer like that, no way." I guaranteed. He groaned and turned around again, making his way to the stairs that led down to the lab.

"I'll call Pepper to come over. Don't come down to the lab for a few hours." He called.

I huffed, blowing some hair out of my face. On a normal occasion, I would have loved to sneak down to the lab to see what he was working on. But I was still new here. I didn't want to give him a reason to kick me out.

Instead, I decided to explore the house more and find something else to entertain myself. Each closet presented me with more knowledge of my dad, which was helpful. It was like getting to know him without breaking down that wall of feelings first. Besides, if I was stuck here while Lyle roamed the Malibu streets, I could at least have a little fun.

In one closet I found an old dusty box tucked up on a shelf. After pulling it down, I found that it was my dad's collection of awards from when he was a kid. I rifled through the certificates until I found the earliest one. Science fair award, from when he was about eight years old. I picked up the box and carried it to my bedroom, so that I could compare his stuff with mine.

I still hadn't completely unpacked from the move from Chicago. I didn't know why. It probably had something to do with leaving the last of my mother behind. I got out my box of awards, shaking my head, as if that would clear it. After digging around for a moment, I found my first certificate. Age eight. Like father, like daughter, I guess.

The doorbell rang and I went to get the door. Pepper was standing outside in casual clothes. She smiled at me, passing through saying, "Hey Amelia, how are you?"

"I'm good." I told her and locked the door.

"Did Tony call me over here just to keep you away from him?" She asked sarcastically.

I grinned. "It feels like that. The joke's on him though. I'm looking through his stuff."

I saw her eyes light up. "Oh? Find anything interesting?"

"So far, only a box of science prizes from when he was a kid."

"You'll have to show me those." Pepper said as she slipped off her shoes, leaving them next to the couch.

"There was another box in that closet, but I couldn't reach it without a chair, so I left it for later." I mentioned, pointing to the closet, whose door was wide open.

"I'll get a chair from the kitchen." She concluded, padding away in bare feet. I stared at the cardboard box, getting the feeling it had something important inside.

"Here we go." Pepper came back with a chair from the kitchen table. I stood on it and carefully pulled it from its spot, then handed it off to Pepper. She sat down on the floor with me so we could rummage through it.

"It's only computer junk." Pepper breathed out, disappointed. I picked up one of the external hard drives.

"Not necessarily." I said, returning it to the box. "I want to take a look at this stuff on my computer."

"Mind if I join you?" She asked nicely, which wasn't necessary at all.

"Come on." I said in reply, nodding my head towards my bedroom. As I started messing with my tech, Pepper looked around my room.

"It looks like you're not really moved in yet." She noticed. I didn't say anything. I had been living here for over a month. I just couldn't force myself to move in all the way.

"Amelia?" She asked me.

"It's nothing." I mumbled, fumbling around with an external hard drive. After plugging it in I was able to access some video files. One of them was labeled _TCG – Flight Tests._ "Look at this."

I clicked on the video and it began to play as Pepper stared over my shoulder.

"Oh my—" Pepper said as I gasped, "No way!"

It was my father in his lab. These were his original flight tests for his Iron Man suit!

"I'm going to hook this up to the t.v." I told her, already moving my laptop to the living room.

Pepper nodded vigorously, "I'll get the popcorn."

Third Person p.o.v.

Tony Stark was closing in on Jacobson's location. It hadn't been easy. The only thing that was troubling him was the sound of laughter that was trickling down the stairs from the floor above. It had only started a few minutes ago, but it was enough to pull him away from his work, purely to see what was going on.

Stark emerged from the lab and watched the two women in his life, curled up on the couch laughing their asses of at the t.v. on the wall. They were sharing a bowl of popcorn.

"What's going on up here?" He asked suspiciously.

Pepper and Amelia looked at him and laughed _more._

"Alright, what are you guys watching?" Stark stepped further into the room…only to see _himself_ on the screen. He pointed. "Where did you get this?"

"Wait, let me go back to the best part!" Amelia went back through the video and played the part when he fell right on top of his car. They burst out cackling again.

"Seriously?" Stark asked, cringing at what was happening in the video.

"Look at your hair!" Pepper exclaimed, almost giggling aloud at it.

"This is the best thing I've seen in a _very_ long time." Amelia stared in awe at the video, as her father looked on uncomfortably.

"I'm going back to the lab. Don't even think about sending this to anyone or you'll be grounded until you're thirty." Stark went away to hide.

Affronted, Amelia scoffed sarcastically, "Yeah, that's likely."

A few days later, Amelia found herself in the lab. She hadn't left the house in a long time, not that she had noticed. She had been working on her repulsor gun and had consumed her. If asked, she probably couldn't differentiate what day it was. The problem presenting itself involved the front end of the barrel.

"Why wont it just shoot straight?" She muttered to JARVIS then held up two fingers, pinching the air. "I am this close to hitting it on the table."

"Why don't you ask your father, miss?" JARVIS offered in response.

"That is a great question, my British friend. Where is he?" Amelia tore herself away from the swivel chair and made her way to the stairs, holding the gun in one hand.

"The living room." JARVIS continued, "I should warn you that your father has company—"

Amelia wasn't listening. She hadn't slept more than an hour the night before. She called up the stairs as she ascended, "Dad? My gun is being stupid and won't—"

She faltered after entering the living room. Seated on the furniture was the team. The Avengers. All of them.

She turned sharply to Stark, saying, "Oh, come on! We talked about this!"

"Did we?" Stark replied.

"Wait, hold on." Bruce Banner halted the two. "You have kids?"

"Just the one." Stark answered, pausing a moment to make up his mind about actually introducing everyone. "This is Amelia."

No one said anything.

"Why are you guys here?" Amelia asked suddenly. She looked at the papers on the coffee table and then at the t.v., which had a picture of Lyle Jacobson and his last known location. "What is going on?"

"I was doing some research on Jacobson—" Stark explained.

"Let me stop you there." Amelia interrupted. "I don't think you really needed to—"

"—and I found that he has been in close contact with—" He continued before being cut off again.

Amelia was becoming more annoyed. "It really shouldn't be a problem—"

"Stalking is a _major_ problem, Amelia!" Stark exclaimed. Steve Rogers stood up and coughed, stopping both of them from bickering any longer.

"Would you like us to leave?" He asked politely.

"Sit down, _Steve_." Amelia ordered without looking at him. She kept her eyes on her father. "I think—"

Clint Barton leaned back and put his feet up on the coffee table. "Have you met her before, Cap?"

"We've met. I didn't know they were related though." Steve replied.

"We shared a plane together." Amelia sighed and fidgeted with her gun. "Also, I've met Romanoff over there."

"So Rogers is called by his first name and I'm just 'Romanoff'" Natasha smiled.

"Yep, pretty much." Amelia began walking away. "I'm going back to the lab."

"You don't want to know what we're all here for anymore?" Stark rose his eyebrows.

She was already half way downstairs when she called, "Whatever it is, leave me out of it."

Stark scoffed and looked back at the group.

Clint rolled his eyes at him, saying, "Well, she certainly inherited your personality."


	13. Chapter 13

Amelia's p.o.v.

Dad and the rest of the Avengers went off the grid for the next week. There were no phone calls, texts, or even an email. I had to admit that I was a little worried. I had gotten used to him being around. I was also interested in what he had started to mention about Lyle. He had been in "close contact" with someone.

After a little-password hacking and spinning round in a swivel chair, it turned out that "contact" was HYDRA.

"Well, shit." I sighed. This was great. Just wonderful. Why did it seem like HYDRA showed up everywhere? Maybe every time the members of the Avengers had a problem they could just blame it on HYDRA and be done with it. I caught myself worrying at all times of the day about Dad, so distracting myself became a part of my daily routine.

I dug around through encrypted files of different agencies. "Snooping" was a hobby. That was a given. I guess the top agencies of the world didn't like that. Too bad for them, though, because it was just so much fun. I rolled my eyes at the poor-quality security that SHIELD had. My web crawlers found door after door into the different layers of the system. Now what kind of daughter would I be if I didn't even look at my dad's file?

 **Anthony Edward Stark**

 **Alias(es):**

 **** ** _Tony Stark_**

 **** ** _Iron Man_**

 **** ** _Da Vinci of Our Time_** – What kind of name is that?

 ** _The Merchant of Death_** – Seriously?

 **** ** _Metal Man_**

 **** ** _Little Prick—_** Okay, I could see how that can be accurate at times.

 ** _Robotic Wunderkind_** – Who made this file?!

I skipped down through the pages, looking for anything that I hadn't heard before. The few paragraphs on my Grandpa Stark didn't impress me. Shipping Dad off to boarding school and never providing any paternal support—I nearly groaned. Part of me felt like I had it good all of a sudden. My mother was always there for me. No matter what I did in life, she would support me and offer any guidance that she could. I knew I was a handful, so it can't have been easy.

I missed my mother. Hell, I missed my father. He hadn't been seen in days, so I hadn't talked to anyone in a week. Normally, that wouldn't have been a problem. But now? It was like something was missing. There was only so much distraction that I could take.

I decided to start working on a project I had been meaning to follow for a while. Repulsor technology had endless bounds; it was amazing that it wasn't used to do anything other than function the suits. Well, I mean, until I made my weapons. Now, I decided to start working on those repulsor shields that I had once thought about.

I bought a standardized army shield off of eBay. I even paid extra to have it arrive the next day. If this was to work at all, I wanted the new shield to be based upon the old one, so that maybe it would be affordable to mass produce it. What would Dad think of that though? Why wasn't I coming up with my own ideas? I just built off of my dad's genius.

My thoughts made me scrap my entire idea. I huffed in annoyance. I was getting angry just sitting here. I needed to get out of this house. I made myself act like a real human. I took a shower, got dressed, ultimately shoving my hair under a knitted hat and slipping on some sunglasses. You know, like a disguise. Ever since Dad and I were seen coming home together, the press had gone ballistic.

 _Who is living with Tony Stark?_

 _Iron Man's new side kick?_

 _Secret Daughter?_

These were all things that I read when I went to stalk myself on the internet. I really didn't want to read about what the gossipers thought about me. I kept my head down as I left the property. Walking down the cracked sidewalks reminded me of Chicago, especially when the gray clouds started building up in the sky overhead. I wondered if it would rain.

It had only been a few minutes later when the sky opened up. The heavy raindrops made it hard to see through the sunglasses, so I pulled them off and stuck them in my pocket. I didn't mind getting drenched. It was actually sort of fun. I jumped in a few puddles here and there, exactly how I used to when I was a kid.

Maybe it was the fact that I was alone or perhaps because it was getting darker, I started developing a nervous feeling in my stomach. I wanted to know where Dad was. I wanted the business with Lyle to disappear. God, why couldn't it all just go away?

Just as I thought this, I reached the corner of an intersection. Across the street, a man in a dark jacket lowered the hood from his head, despite the fact that it was still raining. My eyes widened in recognition. How _the absolute fuck_ could he be here? My feet moved faster than my brain, and I found my feet pounding down the pavement, back to where I had come from.

When I looked back, he wasn't there. That wasn't possible. I couldn't have imagined it. This must have been his plan. I stopped suddenly and ducked into the nearest shop. I kept my head down and sped down the different aisles until I was able to slip into the back room undetected. There were boxes of tourist crap that read **I MALIBU.** Ridiculous, if you ask me. But I didn't have any time to think about any of this as I silently panicked and tried to slow my breathing. If I didn't do that, I would surely have a panic attack, which would lead to something much, _much_ worse.

I hadn't thought it would be possible for Lyle to get to me. I set up precautions. I thought my dad and his superhero buddies would take care of this. Now, everything seemed so stupid. Everything was done in vain. Lyle Jacobson would always find me.

I forced myself to think. What could I do? Call Dad. I should definitely do that. My fingers trembled as I typed the command into my phone. I held it to my ear when it started to ring.

In my father's signature sass, I heard him say, "This had better be important."

"It is, believe me." I promised. "He found me. I don't know how, but he found me."

"Impossible." Dad said. "We're on his trail, and he's nowhere near the house—"

"That would be great if I was at the house." I mumbled, swallowing. I shivered every time I heard the doorbell jingle as a new customer entered the store. What if it was _him?_

"Why aren't you—Never mind that, where are you?"

"I don't exactly have GPS coordinates." I almost groaned aloud and pulled up Google Maps, putting my dad on speaker. "I was just walking by these shops. It was raining and then—"

He interrupted me, "Okay, okay. Enough information. Just give me the address."

"I'm trying!" I snapped. "The wi-fi here is sub-par at best."

I finally got the page to load and told him where I was hiding. He replied, "Dr. Banner is on his way."

"Seriously?" I asked. I felt myself get a bit excited at the notion. Bruce Banner's research was absolutely fascinating. The door bell at the front of the shop rang again. I got down on my knees and peered around the corner to see if I could recognize who it was.

"He's the only one dressed as a civilian." Dad explained. I wasn't listening though. The man who walked through the door was not friendly Dr. Banner. No, it was someone who I _most definitely_ did not want to see.

"Dad. He's here." I muttered, feeling my hands start to shake. I ducked back behind the wall as Lyle walked leisurely down the aisles. I had no doubt he knew I was in here somewhere. No. He was too smart for that.

But I am smart too, I reminded myself. Dad was talking, telling me to wait and calm down, but I needed to act.

"I gotta go." I said and hung up the phone, my dad still mid-sentence. I set up my phone's camera and set it up to watch around the corner. I would hopefully be able to see him coming. There was an industrial-sized air conditioning vent in the corner that I was going to wedge myself into. I had only seen this done in movies. I mean, who in their right mind would attempt to do this? Apparently, me.

The screws were held tightly in place. God damn it. Why can't people do their job crappily for once? I picked at the top right corner screw with my fingernail. It started to turn, but only barely. I jammed my nail in there and picked at it harder. It spun quickly as soon as I got it going.

How long was Lyle going to take?

I had finished another screw when I heard a lady's voice say, "Excuse me, sir, but that's a staff only area."

My head whirled around to look at the camera. He was right there. He must have seen my phone. The sales clerk looked only mildly annoyed. Lyle, however, soon turned stormy. He frowned deeply. What was he going to do?

I crept closer. Lyle didn't say anything. He hardly ever did. I watched as he slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling it out to reveal a small rectangular device. He flashed a sly, creepy smile and I shivered. Not good. I pulled my phone toward me, losing my view of the situation, but really needing to see if my dad was anywhere near.

Yep. Only about forty-six missed messages. No biggie.

The sound of escaping air and a loud thump distracted my attention. That was an uh oh. Definitely an uh oh. I waited for him to peek around the corner. I was familiar with the noxious gas he often used. Hell, he used it in one of the mechanics labs we did at MIT.

My mind slipped back to that day, so long ago.

 _I bit down on my tongue. I didn't want to show how uncomfortable I was. That might set him off or something._

 _I had been uncomfortable with Lyle for a while now. We had been paired with each other on the second day of this class to complete a three-week long project on the basis of electrical mechanics. He stared for long expanses of time, and sat too close to me. I nudged my seat further away under the pretense of looking in my backpack for pencil led. I knew my pencil was fine, but I would make up any excuse to ease my discomfort._

 _The professor ended his lesson to let us work, stepping into his office to work on his computer. Why couldn't he just come back? I watched as the door closed. I swallowed hard, but my mouth was dry. I shivered._

 _Suddenly, Lyle's hand gripped my forearm. Goosebumps erupted across my skin._

 _"_ _Is something wrong?" He whispered. I didn't dare look at him. Lyle continued to speak in his low voice, "It isn't difficult to notice. You're not yourself."_

 _My eyes flickered around the room, hoping someone would notice. No one did. They were distracted by their impending papers due in only two more days. I summoned up some courage and pulled my arm away from his, "You know, I think I understand the premise of the last part. I need to go."_

 _I was already shoving things into my backpack. But that was the wrong thing to do._

 _Lyle cleared his throat and typed a frantic code on his laptop. My head whirled around to see the lettering:_ _ **BZ Agent Fired**_ _._

 _The doors shut with audible clicks, locking automatically and three air dispensers descended from the ceiling. My classmates immediately began to notice the clouds escaping from up above. I pulled my shirt over my lower face as chaos ensued. Everyone rushed for the doors while I ducked under a random desk. I hoped to any higher power that Lyle didn't see me as he slipped on a gas mask._

 _BZ was a code issued by NATO to identify a well-known incapacitating agent. I didn't have much time. What could I do?_

 _What could I do?!_

 _The doors. Get the doors unlocked, I told myself. You can do nothing until the doors are unlocked. My eyes began to water even as I pulled out my phone. I had to hack the software of the doors. MIT converted this building's security to digital only a year ago. I bypassed some of the first firewalls easily. I sent an alert to the security team if they hadn't already gotten one. Please get here._

 _I heard someone knocking down chairs and tables. Meanwhile, my mind began to slur. I was almost through. I had to beat the system before he found me._

 _There._

 _The doors breached open._

 _My eyes closed. Was it enough?_

It turned out that I had unlocked the doors in time. I had beat this gas once. But not today. I had not the gadgets to get me out of this one. Nope.

I watched as Lyle stepped into my view.

That simpering smile was the last thing I saw.


	14. Chapter 14

Third Person p.o.v.

When Amelia woke she immediately knew something was wrong. The events with Lyle seemed like they had just happened, but deep in her chest, she knew that they had occurred hours earlier. She wiped at her bleary eyes and squinted at the brightly lit room around her.

There were no windows.

Her hands began to shake as goosebumps flickered down her arms and legs. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know how she had gotten here. She didn't know what to do.

The inklings of a panic attack built up quickly after that, and she curled up on the floor, wrapping her arms around her head and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Amelia struggled not to cry—but it did not work.

Lyle had won. He had finally done it. What was going to happen to her? The lack of knowledge destroyed her rational thinking sector inside of her brain. She was going to die. That was going to be what happened.

The passage of time was not apparent in the white-walled room. Amelia had no idea how long she laid there. It was, however, long enough to calm down slightly and remind herself of what her father must be doing at the same moment. If she could rely on anyone, it was Tony Stark.

The man in question was a wreck. Stark had not slept in days. The remaining members of his team looked on at him with worry, as he did not care for himself and focused only on finding his daughter. They helped, of course. There would be no rest until the girl was brought back.

Dr. Bruce Banner was quiet. He spoke only when he needed to, and meanwhile retreated within himself. He blamed himself for not getting to Amelia fast enough to save her from the monster she was with now. Oh, he had been told numerous times that it wasn't his fault. That was only a lie in his eyes though.

Amelia's p.o.v.

It was only after a long time that I finally sat up. My panic had left me shaky physically and mentally. I forced myself to take in my surroundings and figure this out. It was like an escape room. I had to find all of the clues before I could actually _escape._ Everything in the room was a blinding white, from the floor to the wall panels to the ceiling where fluorescent lights glared down at me. Why did I have to leave the house? Why couldn't I just stay home?

I cursed myself and began moving around the empty room. I didn't see any security cameras for some reason. They probably knew there wasn't a way out besides the locked door. Even the air ventilation openings were too small for me to squeeze into. I trailed my hand over the panels. Maybe the cabling system would have some room for me to maneuver my way out of here. I recalled that a lot of buildings had a lot of the same wiring features.

As long as Lyle was keeping me captive and on my own, I would have to get out of here. I picked at the panels. There were no screws or nails that I could see. Odd. I pulled at one that seemed looser than the others. I fell to my butt when it suddenly came loose.

It was coated with what felt like industrial glue on the back. That was _really_ weird. It did give me some insight though. This room was built recently. And it was also built hastily. This room must have been built specifically for my arrival. That meant I needed to act fast while they were still unprepared.

I pulled all of the panels off of the wall one by one. I knocked on the plaster walls trying to find the thinnest area. I mean, I was going to punch the plaster to make a hole.

This really wasn't a good idea. But it was my only idea.

I found a nice place that sounded hollower than the rest. Here we go, I told myself. I punched the wall.

"God _dammit_." I cried out. That hurt a lot more than I thought it would. So what did I do? I did it again. And again. And again. My knuckles were screaming at me to stop, and bruising was already starting to appear. Yikes.

I kicked the wall in anger, not trying so hard as to make my foot hurt too. Eventually I made a fist-sized hole. I clutched my throbbing hand to my side and started pulling the wall apart one piece at a time. The infrastructure of the wall was slowly revealed to my eyes and it wasn't long before I started to make another hole in the opposing plaster wall.

My hand hurt like absolute shit. I kept using the same one, making the damage worse each time. I didn't want to screw up the other one though. What if I needed it later? I hoped no one would be waiting on the other side of the wall. That would _royally suck ass._

I shoved my body through the marginally small hole I made, flopping casually onto the floor and just laying there to catch my breath. I hated this. I hated this so much.

 _Keep moving_ , my brain told me.

 _Stop moving forever_ , my body responded. Any movement of my hand hurt. Why did I think this was the best way? Oh, yeah, because it was the only way. I was in the room adjacent to my old one. Perhaps this one didn't have a locked door?

Bingo.

It clicked open and I stepped into a hallway. I chose a direction and started moving.

Oh, if only I had noticed the security cameras I had passed as I tried my hand at escaping.

Maybe then things would have turned out better.

Third Person p.o.v.

Lyle Jacobson finally had his prize. Amelia Mason was a genius, and if anyone could pass HYDRA's tests, it was her—even if she didn't know she was participating in them. He had fantasized about this moment for so long—years of his life. He knew she would pass. He just knew it.

The first test was to escape the room. Her method was unconventional, to say the least. He smiled at every wince of pain that crossed her features. Amelia's suffering was attractive in his eyes.

She hadn't noticed the cameras hidden in the light fixtures. A rookie mistake, perhaps, but fascinating nonetheless. Lyle had chosen Amelia years and years ago when he had met her at MIT. She was the perfect candidate. Her brain was perfect for HYDRA.

HYDRA had developed the technology for factual absorption. After a series of enhancing injections, Amelia would be able to absorb all of the information on the internet and _more._ She was the only one for the job, of that Lyle was sure. All of the previous test subjects had died from the injections, but their minds were average at best. Amelia was a genius already, and these inoculators would allow her to access the full power of her brain. As soon as HYDRA accepted her, the tests would begin.

Lyle fought to maintain his grin as the HYDRA officials began to grow excited. Oh yes, he had been right all along.

"Jacobson." His supervisor called.

"Sir." Lyle answered respectfully.

"How soon can we start the injections?" He asked, his face a steely mask of anticipation. Lyle made no facial response, but replied quickly, "I believe I could be ready in half an hour, sir."

The man nodded. "Subject Mason will be at the lab in exactly that amount of time. It is time to begin."

Lyle bowed his head out of respect and hurried away. The glee showed on his face when he was finally alone. Amelia was his now, and nothing was going to change that fact. When she was brought to him, she was unconscious, a welt forming on the back of her head. Subconsciously, he ran his fingers through her hair. What a specimen she was. He couldn't wait to see the upcoming results.

But first, the injections.


	15. Chapter 15

Amelia's p.o.v.

It was all for nothing. Every action I attempted to escape was futile. It was all a trick. I fell easily for the lies that were fed to me, but I would not make that same mistake again.

These were things I told myself as I was thrown to the floor by figures in black uniforms with the letters HYDRA emblazoned on their chests. From then on, life became a blur. I was in and out of consciousness, each time waking up to an even more confusing reality, knowing that another horrid injection would come my way.

When the injections stopped, the surgeries began. They began with a chip in my left eye. It didn't hurt—at least, I didn't think it did. My sensory memories of those days are very dull. When they turned the chip on, data scrolled past my left iris. The next surgery implanted a memory card at the base of my neck. Its wires were connected carefully into my spinal cord. From that moment on, I was able to remember anything and everything that passed before my eyes. It was like I woke up with one of those crazy mutations that allows you to remember every day of your life—only this time it wasn't natural.

Finally, a tracking device was implanted into the bottom of my foot. They would never lose me now. That's something they firmly believed.

But as my mind downloaded file after file and eventually the _entire internet,_ I knew so many things. My knowledge had expanded. Even as they strapped me down in a small room, I knew how I was going to get out. And that is something HYDRA didn't know. They didn't know how to restrain me now. I was their hard drive that they couldn't control.

I shivered when they left me alone. They were going to test my new abilities in exactly four hours. It said so on their schedule, which I was able to hack with my mind. I guess Lyle didn't know that hacking was a prior skill of mine.

My heart was racing. In theory, HYDRA's idea was brilliant and amazing. But in actuality, it was terrifying. I had a computer inside of me—no! I was a computer now, and it was powered by my own kinetic energy. What was I supposed to do now? I just needed to get out of here. Then I could go back and become a mechanic again. Maybe in Malibu, or maybe in Chicago.

My heart clung to that silly idea. And it was silly. If I ever escaped, I would have to go completely off the grid. I was recognizable now, and HYDRA could easily find me. How long had I been here, really? I blinked and a newspaper from the Washington Post scrolled by my left iris. That was a plus. I could read a lot faster now. My brain scanned the article and quickly found the date.

I had done the math before I had even come to realize the difference. 2 years. It had been two years since I was taken.

No. That couldn't be right.

I checked source after source, coming back with the same material. It was true. But how was that possible? They couldn't have kept me unconscious all that time, could they?

That little nagging voice at the back of my head reminded me that doctors did this all the time. I subconsciously began playing a documentary about what I had been thinking of. Damnit. _That_ was going to get annoying really quick. I looked at the door. It was most certainly locked. I soon found that if I squinted I could act as a scanner. The blueprints of the room became aligned in my vision.

It became so overwhelming that I had to shut my eyes. I even covered them with my hands to make sure no light could get in, biting down on my tongue to distract myself. It didn't work though. I took a few deep breaths. Think of Dad, I told myself. This was sort of like what he saw when he put on his suit. That calmed me a little. If Dad could do it, then so could I.

At my every thought, new articles and videos appeared, as if on a screen, right before me. I needed to learn how to control that. I focused on the task at hand: get through that door. Whatever was on the other side would be taken care of. I figured if they had kept me around for this long, doing all sorts of things to me, they probably wouldn't shoot me on sight. That would be a waste of two years' work.

I was right. I pulled in closer to the door handle, noticing that its shape and size aligned with a manufacturing model that came with a long barcode to match it. Soon enough, I found several papers written about the weak faults of the handle. A well-placed kick (well, kicks. I've never been very physical, therefore knowing very little about how to cause damage with my body instead of my mind) sent the door flying open.

HYDRA: 0

Amelia: 1

There was one guard stationed outside. He looked shocked.

"Hey, buddy." I greeted, walking toward him stupidly. What surprised me was that he started backing away from me. That had never happened to me before. Then he took off down the hallway. I followed after, matching his pace. Whichever way he was going was probably the way out—the exit. The more of the building I saw, the more infrastructure I was able to piece together.

I surprised myself yet again when the blueprints of the entire building sprang before my left eye. I had somehow found my exact location based on the unique blueprints alone. I was in Germany. Imagine that. I didn't even own a passport. How did they manage to sneak me past customs? That must have been interesting.

I stood completely still in the center of the hallway, going through the blueprints and possible escape routes. Then I had the brilliant idea to hack HYDRA's mainframe. Each agent had a tracker, that was something I had read in a file so many years ago, back in my MIT days. Lyle wouldn't be laughing now. He had won his battle against me. But I was going to win the war.

Suddenly I had a created a 3-D simulation in my mind. Each red light represented an opposing agent. The one green light was me. Just six levels and over seventy red lights standing between me and freedom.

I was astounded by the calm that came over me. I passed through each door with the overall mentality of "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.". Each situation had a new way to get around it. At least, that's what I thought until I was surrounded by ten guards, all of whom were pointing big guns at me.

I slowly rose my hands above my head, data rapidly flying past my irises. I held back a smile, my flare for the dramatics (which I got from my father) coming alive as I counted down with my fingers.

 _3_

 _2_

 _1_

The look of shock on the soldier's faces as the lights went out and the fire alarm went off felt _fantastic_.

And that scared me.

But I didn't have the time to think about that. Shades flickered over my eyes, turning the world green—like night vision goggles. Yes! I could see in the dark!

Wait, was this going to happen every time it got dark? Please no, I thought.

I rushed through the dark, keeping my thoughts on two things: my escape route and the hacking software HYDRA was running to get the lights back on. They would fail. It was sort of ironic how this horrid agency was taken down simply because they couldn't see in the dark. I reached my last door, this one leading to a pipes system underground. From there it would be a clear shot to freedom. My first order of business was to get this tracker out of my foot. It was going to hurt like hell, and I wasn't planning on hopping my way to victory. No, I had to escape first.

It was only an hour later when I was tromping through the snowy landscape of Germany that I wished I had taken a jacket before escaping. My breaths escaped in short pants, puffing up into the air before disappearing. I used to believe my breaths created the clouds in the winter. I missed those days when I would skip down the sidewalk with my mom. Oh, I missed her. I couldn't help but grasp those memories close to me. I needed to get to civilization, which, according to my location, was about 45 minutes in the direction I was walking—that is, if I kept up my speed.

I was so goddam cold. Sure, I had grown up in Chicago. Snow was normal. But this was on a different level. I missed the sun in Malibu.

"Shit." I muttered as my foot sank through a deep area of snow. It wouldn't even matter that the tracker would be removed. At this rate, my feet would just be cut off. What a lovely image. My fingers and toes ached and I clenched my jaw so I couldn't hear my teeth chattering.

When I saw the glow of the town a little way off, I almost cried. I wanted to run right through the streets, but that was just another way to get recaptured. I blearily kept to the shadows when I did get there. I was tired, cold, and in desperate need of food. Somehow, I ended up huddled around an on-fire garbage can with some of the homeless. My clothes helped me blend in plenty. I was wearing loose trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and simple tennis shoes. Perfect, right? Wrong.

I nodded to the two men next to me, also warming their hands. I kept my voice low as I looked them in the eyes. "Got a pocket knife?"

They exchanged an apprehensive glance. They had no idea what I was saying. I was in _Germany_. And I didn't know a word of German. I tried to smile, but found that it was too difficult. I figured that vague "stabbing" gestures wouldn't be taken too nicely. That meant I needed to figure out a different plan. HYDRA could find me at any time, so I had to do it fast.

I had no money, no way of communicating with anyone. Hell, everyone I knew probably thought I was dead. I moved away from the fire, missing its heat immediately. According to a bell tower across the street, it was eleven p.m. Nice. Nothing would be open.

How the hell was I going to get this stupid tracker out?!

Eventually, I concluded that I was going to have to break the law to get a good knife. I found a closed restaurant and snuck into the back through an unlocked window. Lucky me. Unfortunately, there was a rather large dog that barked for at least ten minutes when it saw me. I never had any pets growing up. Mom was allergic.

It was warmer inside, and I found a knife easily. I sunk to the floor with a sigh and took off my shoe. I was not looking forward to this at all. My brain pulled up the instructions to various surgeries and I skimmed the information. Then, I put a rag in my mouth and began my game of operation.

Oh. I cried. I cried a whole lot. It hurt so, so much. But I did my deed. I got it out. The tiny thing could have caused so much trouble for me. Now I had to find some way to ditch it…and fix my foot, which was bleeding steadily onto the linoleum floor.

"This sucks so fucking bad." I whispered aloud to myself. I held a dishcloth to my foot, trying to put pressure on the self-inflicted wound. I wrapped it as best as I could and shuffled my way to the coatrack near the door. There was a chef's jacket and a pair of men's wellingtons just sitting there.

It couldn't hurt to take them. I had to get out of here. I dug around in their refrigerator for some food. There wasn't much except for some raw meat. That worked out okay though because there was also some bread. I stuffed the tracker inside a sausage and decided to feed it to the dog. The tracker would recognize a heat signature and HYDRA would track the dog—not me.

I limped down the avenue, eating the load of bread like one would eat an apple. Bite by bite. I had no idea where I was going, just that it was away. Far away.


	16. Chapter 16

It was amazing what you can get when you know everything. By a stroke of luck, I was able to sneak onto a transatlantic plane headed to someplace in the states. That's all I needed to know when I ducked into the cargo hold. The plane itself had passed Class C specifications, so I knew the compartments would be pressurized. It was a bumpy flight to say the least. As soon as the plane stopped moving and the baggage hold doors were opened, I was gone.

I exited through the service doors and merged into the steady flow of travelers in the airport. My anxiety began to wear off as I got further and further away. I was still off the grid, as far as I knew. I eventually found myself in farm country. It was nearing nightfall and it was snowy here too.

I was a little bitter. I had just escaped Germany, where my frost-bitten ass had wandered through the woods for hours. Now my frostbitten ass was trekking though the freezing woods in America. I huffed in annoyance. I had a jacket this time, but it didn't help the fact that I couldn't feel my feet. Perhaps that was a good thing. I didn't really want to see my bloody hacked at heel.

I could see a light in the distance. Maybe there was a barn I could crash in for the night. I approached a pretty farmhouse, sniffling from the cold. The door swung open a few minutes after I had knocked. I distinctly heard the sound of a deadbolt lock before meeting a woman in her thirties. She seemed sweet when she gasped at my appearance.

"Sorry to bother you, but could I—" I started. She pulled me inside suddenly, and I stumbled after her.

"What happened to you?" She frantically sat me down in front of a healthy fire and began piling blankets on top of me.

I couldn't even come up with a good excuse. "I wandered off?"

"Sure." She gave me a look that said, _"Like I believe that."_

"Sorry." I muttered.

"Let's start with something easier. My name is Laura." She settled down next to me with a wash cloth soaked with hot water and began wiping at my face.

"I'm Amelia." I told her. What could hurt about giving her my real name?

She paused for a moment and stared at my now-clean face. Laura finally replied. "I've only heard of one Amelia in my life. It's such an older name."

"Thank you?" I say, trying to wrap my head around her odd comment. My eyelids were already drooping, but they snapped open at the sound of soft pattering feet from elsewhere in the house. Two children poked their heads around a corner.

Laura was immediately up, shooing the boy and girl back the way they had come. "I put you guys to bed twenty minutes ago. It's time to sleep."

Laura came back to me and led me to the kitchen. We passed a room under renovation. She caught me looking at it and murmured, "My husband loves his projects."

"Where is he now?" I wondered aloud, then tried to correct myself, "I'm sorry, that was rude."

"No, it's alright," Laura kept up conversation as she microwaved a can of soup she pulled out of the pantry. "He's at a work conference for a few months."

"Do farmers usually have month long conferences in the winter?" I blurted wearily. I squinted as my vision went in and out as it scanned certain products for their durability. I hadn't managed how to turn that off yet. It was a learning process. A very slow learning process. I continued before Laura could say anything. "You don't have to answer that. Could I crash on your couch for the night?"

"Well, you're not going back out there." Laura exclaimed. "Let me show you to the guest bedroom."

"Thank you so much." I smiled for the first time in a week. As Laura navigated through the house feeling returned to my body. Especially my foot. When we got to the stairs, I stumbled over some toys.

"Come on, sweetie." Laura put her arm around me to help and I flinched a little. I couldn't help it. I didn't think she noticed all that much though. As soon as I was sitting on the bed, Laura started to take off my shoes. I was half asleep as she gasped at my swollen blood extremity. It was all a blur from then on. She treated my foot and I passed out on the bed. This was nice.

Laura Barton's p.o.v.

Amelia was fast asleep, bandaged foot propped up on a pillow in bed. I watched her for a moment and wrung my hands. If she was who I thought she was, we were going to have a problem.

Amelia Stark had been missing for so long. It had been blared across headlines when it had first happened, and any time Clint wasn't at home with her and the kids, he was out in the world searching for that girl. I had seen many photos of her. I was sure if I compared the two, they would be the same person.

Where had she been?

I closed the guest room door and went back downstairs. Clint was on a mission right now. The only way to reach him was for emergencies only. Was this an emergency though? Surely Tony Stark would want to know that his daughter was alive. I was so conflicted. I ran my fingers through my hair after washing Amelia's bowl out.

I would have to keep her here. Hopefully it wouldn't be too hard. Amelia was most likely to be sick after her bout outdoors. And there was the matter of the condition her foot was in. I could use the excuse of the weather for a little while, but spring was already on its way. The snow started melting months ago and greenery was becoming more apparent every day. Just a few months, and Clint would be home again.

Amelia's p.o.v.

I woke up how I normally did, opening my eyes and panicking as I didn't recognize my surroundings. It was odd that I didn't have nightmares—none that I could remember anyway. It was as if my brain had put a blanket over my memories. Well, whatever was left of them, at least. I ran my hand over the soft sheets on the bed, automatically zoning out on the information rushing down my left iris. I was getting better at ignoring it. How long had it been since I had slept in a bed without monitors and wires being connected to me?

It had been way too long. I realized this as I sat up and looked around. My vision washed over the room, noticing how the nice lady from last night had bandaged my foot and left clothes on the nightstand, all ready for me to shower in the connected bathroom. I sighed in content as I stripped off my wrangled clothes, which looked like they had gone twenty rounds with Lord Voldemort. My foot looked and felt like hell as I re-wrapped it. Even after my shower, it looked disgusting and dirty.

My hair was its normal length. It was little details like this that I noticed as I stood in front of a mirror, still dripping from the shower and wrapped in a fluffy peach colored towel. I kept coming back to the same conclusion. Two years. How had it been two years?

I was freaking out inside but my face portrayed a blank slate. It was terrifying that this was my reality, and yet, the psychological trauma hadn't caught up to me. I was running away from it. I knew full well that it would be like an explosion when it caught up.

HYDRA was sure to catch up someday too. They hadn't been prepared for my rebellion, but they knew what I could do now. I was safer in the States, but I needed to keep moving. I didn't want to put anyone in danger. Especially the nice family downstairs. Laura was a sweetheart. Her husband may or may not be cheating on her though, because what farmer had a three-month long conference? That wasn't normal. Maybe she was in denial.

I looked for the Wellington boots I had stolen in Germany. They were gone. Laura must have taken them. She probably didn't want all the mud to get into her carpets. I felt like a terrible house guest. I dirtied up the sheets just sleeping in them last night. Not to mention the bathtub, which had a trail of grime leading to the drain.

I did my best to clean up, stripping the bed and rinsing out the tub. I faced the door with uncertainty. The borrowed clothes fit fine, but they still felt _wrong_. I swallowed and limped to the door. It was time to face the music.


	17. Chapter 17

"Is there anything I can do to thank you?" I tried to be polite, standing awkwardly in the doorway of the laundry room. Laura looked up, as if surprised to see me.

"Oh, you're up! How are you feeling?" She asked me, and I replied, "I think I'm alright."

Laura nodded and focused back on her work, which essentially involved the washing machine and a lot of banging sounds with a wrench. I watched for a moment, cringing with every noise she made.

I interrupted her work again. "Mind if I take a look? I'm a mechanic. I—"

She automatically handed me her tools. "Sure. Come find me if you get hungry. I need to go check on Cooper and Lila."

Laura got up and groaned, placing a hand over her stomach. I noticed a slight protruding of her stomach that I didn't see last night. She was pregnant. I didn't really know what to say about that, so I waited silently as she slipped by me.

I easily scanned the machine, seeing all of its framework through digital blueprinting. I figured that by fixing Laura's machine I was repaying my debt—sort of. I didn't know where I was going, didn't know where I would end up, so the plan was to keep moving. I fixed the machine in about half an hour. It was nice to be mundanely helpful after so long. It felt like yesterday that I had gotten bored in Dad's house in Malibu.

My thoughts wandered and then I was seeing images of what used to be our house. It had been demolished. God, I had a lot to catch up on. Apparently, it had been blown up by a terrorist. Seriously? How could that even happen? I reminded myself that stranger things had occurred in my own life, so how impossible was it really? Dad had relocated to New York, right in the center of Manhattan, to be exact.

I felt like I was the center rope in a game of tug-of-war, my conflicted thoughts yanking me side to side at every whim. I wanted to see Dad. I didn't want anyone to know where I was. It would put me and those around me in danger. Everything became jumbled if I thought about it too long. The washing machine was fixed way faster than I had wanted. It was easy to admit that it was nice being safe inside a warm house than outside, tromping around in the snow. A fraction of me didn't want to leave. Especially when Laura brought me food when I hadn't even asked for it. _That_ was awesome.

Laura stood in the doorway holding a steaming plate as I screwed the back panel onto the machine, finished with my task. "Come on." She said and nodded her head toward the living room. Another fire was going, and I tucked my legs under myself as I sat on the couch.

"Here you go." Laura smiled as she gave me the plate of food. I practically inhaled it as she talked. "Thank you for working on that. My husband, Clint, usually does all the repairs. They start to stack up when he travels though."

We sat there awkwardly for a moment. I wasn't sure what to say. Conversation skills were never a big hit with me. I tried my best, however, saying, "I'm glad I could help. I kinda owe it to you. You saved my life last night. I won't trouble you much longer—"

"Amelia, you're no trouble at all, and I don't think it's safe to go back out there with your foot being injured and the weather being as cold as it is." Laura said. What was she trying to say?

I had made a face and Laura laughed. I really should keep moving though, "I don't have anything to offer you—"

Conversation was Laura's game, it seemed. She had an answer for everything. "Why don't you stay here? You could do some of the household chores and finish some of my husband's projects. That way you'll be busy, but safe at the same time."

She kept using that word, _safe_ , as if she knew I was in danger. I eyed her warily. Laura was very persuasive, almost strategic in the way she used her words. I ran her face through the state database and came up with very little. A driver's license acknowledged that she was who she claimed to be. Her record had nothing unsatisfactory on it. All in all, Laura was very mundane. Perhaps it would be safe to stay here. The farm was certainly off the grid.

"What sort of projects?" I asked. She knew I had decided to stay. Laura launched into a laundry list of things that had been started but never finished. It was sort of long. Did her husband, _Clint was it?_ , actually do any of these chores? I tossed my thoughts to the back of my mind and listened intently. If I was to stay, I wanted to prove myself useful.

Suddenly, Laura's two children ran in, giggling at the papers they held in the small fists. Laura smiled brightly and commended their work.

"Mommy?" The girl asked, "Who is she?"

"This is Amelia, honey," Laura replied. "She's going to be staying with us for a while."

"Oh." The girl said.

"These are my kids," Laura hugged her son, the older of the two children. "Cooper and Lila."

"Hi." I smiled. I wanted to make a good impression. I liked kids, well, except when they did the crying thing. That was hard to tolerate after a while.

Lila, the more confident of the two, stepped closer to me. "Are you a good colorer?"

"I dunno. You're probably better at it than I am."

Lila smiled and grabbed my hand, "Let's go color."

With that, I became a part of the small family. I fell into a nice routine of waking up early to help with breakfast, eating and playing with the kids, and working on the renovations in the afternoon as Laura oversaw he children's schooling. I loved it. Being away from the city life that I had grown up in, I seemed to relax. There was something so serene about the nature around me, and I couldn't find a good reason to leave, even though the work was running out.

Some of the chores were outside, but it was getting warmer day by day. I didn't mind re-building the front steps to the house. That project had taken me a week, but it was definitely worth it. Earlier, there had been a hole where the wood had rotted. Now it was perfectly safe and sound. One afternoon, Laura, the kids, and I took the time to paint it together. Of course, we had all ended up covered in paint—hand prints on each other's clothes and splotches all over our skin—but it was a happy memory.

Today, I was working on reflooring the sunroom at the back of the house. I was ready to be finished with it. The grueling work of bending over the floor every day was starting to take a toll, and my back was tired. Plus, the walls were already painted, so this was the last thing that needed finishing before all the furniture in the hallway could be moved back to its proper place.

The loud noises of my hammer blocked out all other noises, so I stopped every so often to call Laura to come look at my progress. An old-fashioned boom box blasted 80s classics from its spot in the doorway.

Third Person p.o.v.

The quinjet landed stealthily on the farmland, and the Avengers tiredly followed Clint Barton up the steps into the house. They didn't seem to notice him faltering at the sight of the stairs, still bright from the new paint coat it had gotten. Clint, of course, thought it was strange because he had been the one to have been standing on the steps when they had broken in the first place. Had his wife, Laura, done that? It seemed a bit off to him.

The introduction of his family to the rest of the Avengers (except Natasha) went as smoothly as possible…it was very awkward to say the least. Stark was convinced that the Barton family was actually a team of agents. In the background, 80s alternative rock was playing, an unusual substitute for the usual instrumental music that had normally graced the residence.

As Clint hugged his wife, he noticed the relief as well as the hesitation in her eyes. Something was wrong. Quietly, he asked her, "What is it?"

"I need to tell you something really important—" Laura started to say. Before she could explain further, another voice called out. It was a voice that didn't belong in Clint's family. There was a stranger in his house. His eyes flashed as he hurried to the back of the house, trying to find the owner of the voice. Laura quickly trailed after him, leaving the rest of the team to look around the house. He came upon the sunroom, where a girl with her back to him observed the new flooring.

"What do you think?" Amelia asked without turning. She had heard footsteps approach, and was admiring the finished room herself.

"I think you need to explain what you're doing in my house." Clint replied.

Amelia whirled around in shock of hearing a man's voice instead of Laura's. She was even more shocked when she recognized who it was. She mumbled, "Oh, god."

"Amelia?!" Clint's tone grew louder, traveling through the house to the ears of the rest of the Avengers. One in particular, Tony Stark, looked up in confusion.

"What are you doing here?" Clint asked frantically.

Amelia looked as frantic as he. "What am I—What are you doing here? You're a farmer?!"

"Yes!" Clint replied as Amelia turned away, running her hands over her face and through her hair mumbling, "Oh my god this is not happening."

From the doorway, another man stood in complete astonishment. "Amelia?"

"What?!" She yelped then looked back at who had spoken. Her face immediately shifted from alarmed to another form of shock. "Dad?"


	18. Chapter 18

Third person p.o.v.

The team of Avengers had a lot to think about. What with the troubles in Sokovia and the reunion between one of their members—there was almost too much to process. Nothing was said as they all watched the father and daughter. The two embraced fiercely, Stark cradling the back of Amelia's head as he whispered in her ear.

"I thought you were dead." His voice was soft as he pulled back to look at her.

"I know—" She tried to reply before Stark interrupted.

"You knew?" He practically shrieked. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you come home?! It's been over two years!"

"Don't you think I wanted to?!" Amelia's voice rose to match his. "I escaped three months ago! I woke up in _Germany—_ "

The remaining Avengers backed discreetly out of the room, knowing that the conversation was quickly turning into a private one. They closed the door behind them as Stark exclaimed, "Why didn't you call me?"

"Well it's not like I had your number memorized." Amelia replied. "I had no phone, no money—"

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. In a haunted voice she said, "You have no idea what they did to me."

Amelia looked away from her father as tears started dripping down her face. She wiped them away frantically. Stark pulled her close to him again and held her. He would hold her until she was ready to stop crying.

On the other side of the door, Clint was holding his wife. Laura seemed shaken by the whole situation.

"I didn't know if this was a good enough excuse to call you." She sighed. "I wish I had said something sooner."

Clint comforted her. "It'll be alright now, you'll see. Amelia's here. She's not dead. That's more than any of us could have asked for."

They were quiet a moment, listening to the muted sounds from the sunroom.

"In the months she was here, she never said anything about what happened to her. It must have been horrible though."

Clint nodded and pulled her towards the kitchen. "We know HYDRA had her. Whatever they did to her—well, its amazing that she made it out alive."

Amelia's p.o.v.

I wish I could say that my father and I's relationship was "peachy keen" after our reunion, but it wasn't. After the immediate emotions of reunification had passed, a terse feeling had taken over our conversations. Neither of us knew what to say to each other. I could see that he desperately wanted to ask me what had happened. But he didn't. And if he did, I wouldn't tell him.

I hadn't been able to say anything about those two lost years. It was all I thought about, however. I tried to recall all of the memories, but my own brain blocked me. Perhaps I subconsciously knew that I didn't really want to remember.

I had trained myself to block out the computer side of my brain. If I kept my emotions steady it was easy. If I got upset it only got worse. As usual, distractions were the best thing for me. It had occurred to me to ask what all of the avengers were doing on Clint's farm, but searching through the news was all I needed to do.

My dad had come up with Ultron, a crazy robot with hard opinions about life, who was currently planning to destroy the world. The fact that I wasn't too surprised about this was not a good sign. Well, neither was Nick Fury's appearance on the farm. I spotted him as he ducked into the barn. Pushing myself up off of the back steps of the house, I followed him there.

The former director of SHIELD seemed surprised to see me. Oh, right. Everyone thought I was dead.

"Amelia Mason." Fury said theatrically. "We meet at last."

"Don't be so dramatic." I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets. "You knew I could see you coming here."

"I'll admit that I did. You got the message that I wanted to talk to you though, so my plan worked." He admitted. He hardly moved from his position. It was kinda daunting but I put on my Chicago mechanic front, the one that told people I took no bullshit.

"What can I do for you?" I grinned mockingly.

He evaluated me for a moment. "Help your father control his projects. Then I'd consider joining the team."

I stared, knowing full well that I should have expected this. "You know, then? You know what—"

"—HYDRA did to you?" Fury nodded his head gravely. "Some of my spies reported that HYDRA had lost one of its newly enhanced specimens that just so happened to be the daughter of a billionaire. The power you have now—"

"What's going on?"

I turned over my shoulder to see my dad. I didn't even try to explain.

"I guess I wasn't sent in here to fix the tractor, was I?"


	19. Chapter 19

The Avengers and I sat around the kitchen table together, still on Clint's farm. I didn't dare look at anyone in the eyes as Fury started to explain why I could be a great asset to their team. I was particularly annoyed that he hadn't asked my permission before spilling all my secrets to my new "extended family". I could feel their gazes on me.

"Miss Mason has a unique understanding of Ultron." Fury concluded. "As you all know, when he escaped New York it was through the internet—which he has at his expense. So does she."

Fury motioned to me and I looked up at him, trying to pick up on what he wanted from me.

"What exactly do you want me to do?" I asked, frowning.

"Get into his head—" He tried to explain before he got interrupted.

"You want me to hack into a psycho robot's computer brain?"

"Wait, hold on." Clint was sitting backwards on his chair, crossing his arms on the back of it. "So, you've got a computer in your head?"

"Something like that." I shrugged.

"So, if I asked you anything you could tell me the answer?"

"Well, I'm not Google, Clint, but yeah, probably." I resisted rolling my eyes.

"What's 3,523,124 times 965?" He asked.

I smiled slightly. "It's 3,399,814,660. But that's not a very relevant test considering you don't know the answer."

Dad ran a hand tiredly over his face. "I can't believe we're having this conversation. I'm not putting my kid into a fight." He glared at Fury. "I just got her back and now you want me to risk her life? I don't think so."

"I actually agree." I mentioned and the others stared at me in shock.

Fury frowned even more, if that was possible. "I would have thought you would want to help."

"I do!" I insisted. "I just don't want to join the Avengers. I already have a target on my back. I don't need that. Patch me through a comm or whatever, but I'm not heading into a fight that I'm not prepared for. Honestly, it's a bitch move to even expect me to and—"

"Okay, that's enough." Dad rolled his eyes. "They get it."

"How about a compromise?" Fury offered. "You wouldn't be on the ground, just the Quinjet."

"Fine." I said, ready to move on.

"Let's get back to the problem. We don't know where Ultron is. We don't know what he's doing." Captain America brought up.

I rose my hand as if I was in a classroom. A train of data was scrolling up my right eye. I skimmed it quickly. "Actually, he's in South Korea. Seoul, specifically. I don't know why though."

Banner picked up the water color painting that Lila had made for Natasha. It was of a butterfly. "He's looking for a body—a synthetic one."

"He's trying to become better." The Captain mentioned.

"Not just better." Banner continued. "He's trying to evolve."

"What does that have to do with South Korea?" Dad asked. The Avengers bounced ideas off of each other so fast I felt like my head was spinning just watching them. It was weird to see Dad "at work" after so long.

"I have a colleague, Dr. Helen Cho, who has recently developed a "cradle" which can create a body out of synthetic tissue."

I got up with a grimace, intending to start packing my minuscule belongings. "You might want to give her a call."

The Avengers were having a rough go at it. Another mission, another failure to desist Ultron. I stayed where I said I would, on the Quinjet. And even from far away, I could tell things were not going well for us good guys. The small aircraft I was on came equipped with all kinds of software I could use to keep an "eye" on everyone. I thought that phrase was sort of funny, considering I could watch everyone in the corner of my eyes instead of the monitors that were before me.

Anyway, I knew things were not being handled well because of the derailed train. Nothing good ever comes from a derailed train. I think everyone with any semblance of a knows that. I couldn't tell exactly but it seemed as though the team was getting some help from the "evil" twins. At least that's how they were described to me by the farmer, Clint. He appeared to be joking, and I could tell that he was somewhat endearing towards them. They were just kids, maybe about the same age as me.

I kept forgetting that I wasn't seventeen anymore; that I was nineteen now. A fully grown adult. I pondered over getting a tattoo and then thought some more about what my dad would say. I shrugged and rubbed my eyes before turning back to the monitors. There was very little I could do. I was already blocking the security cameras and taking down video coverage, so the Avengers wouldn't have to face any law enforcement charges by the South Korean government, knowing full well my dad might have to pay for damages anyway, which really sucked ass.

I received a signal for pickup, so I typed a quick sequence of code to land the plane for me. When they boarded the jet, I noticed the problem. Romanoff was missing. Besides her, we had two extra crew members. The twins. I flashed them a concerned smile and an awkward thumbs up before helping the others with any injuries. The only plus to this segment of the mission was the retrieval of the Cradle.

Clint, however, looked devastated. Losing his partner to the enemy could clearly tear him apart. If we didn't get her back, I didn't know what would happen to him. I turned to my father with antiseptic and bandages, shaking them in front of his face to get his attention. He gave me a rough smile and rolled his eyes, allowing me to patch him up.

I moved about the Quinjet, thankful for the autopilot keeping the plane from crashing. I made may way around each of the team members, trying to do my part. The remaining Avengers seemed to stray away from the twins, so I decided I might try to make them feel more welcomed.

The girl, Wanda, I think? She seemed very put off by me and didn't even look me in the eye. I handed her a package of bandages and moved on to her brother. Pietro, was it?

"May I help you?" I asked.

"Depends." He said in thick accent. "How closely do you work with Stark?"

I almost winced at the malice at which he said my last name. I tried to smile but I think he could tell I was a little annoyed. "Well, I'm his daughter, so…"

Pietro's face slackened and then hardened.

"No need to be hostile." I bargained with my hands up. "I didn't find out until a few years ago. Now, are you going to let me clean up that cut on your head?"

Reluctantly, he nodded, and I sat down next to him on the bench to begin wiping away the slightly dry blood. He didn't wince though I'm sure it stung like hell, considering I was using antiseptic.

We made small talk, eventually getting past that for Pietro to actually tell me what he had against my dad. How when his home was under attack, killing his parents and almost him and his sister—the only words on the unexploded shell were _Stark Industries_. Tony Stark, for them, became the most hated man in the world.

I understood it, why they came to want to kill my father, but I also wanted to change his mind about Dad.

"You do not seem as bad as your father, Miss—" Pietro said, sincere.

"Oh!" I realized I hadn't introduced myself. "I'm Amelia."

"And I am Pietro."

We shook hands and smiled at each other.

Someone cleared their throat. I realized that someone was Dad. He gave me a pointed look and I noticed that Pietro and I had yet to stop shaking hands. I bit my lip to hold back a smile as Dad warned, "No."

"There you have it." I flashed one more grin at Pietro before moving away.

We were getting close to the Avengers Tower in New York. The Quinjet was exceptionally fast. As far as I knew, we would only be making a stop to plan out the attack on Ultron. Well, and do something with the synthetic body that was laying next to the jet's bay doors.

I could see that moral was down. Ultron was still on the loose, Romanoff had been captured, and Thor was still missing—why, I have no idea. We started our descent as I settled down in front of the monitors again, not really knowing what to do with myself. What else is new?


	20. Chapter 20

"Is Thor ever coming back?" I asked, nonchalant as the team argued (and started to fight) about what to do with the synthetic body left behind in the Cradle. Captain America, or shall I say _Steve_ , was trying to stop Dad and Dr. Banner (a.k.a. the coolest guy ever) from uploading JARVIS into the body. The twins were also trying to help Steve, but it wasn't helping much. Honestly, they should know better than to interrupt the Science Bros™ when their working. Yeah, I found out they called their little partnership that.

No one paused to listen to me as they shot at each other, so I asked again, "Seriously though, where is Thor?"

Just then, Pietro fell through the floor after dismantling the Cradle.

"Jesus Christ." I mumbled while peering over the edge to see if he was alright. After hearing a groan in pain, I deduced that he was fine. There was so much chaos going on around me and I just wanted it to stop.

My wish came true when Thor decided to join us again, summoning electricity from thin air and striking it down upon the Cradle.

This was about the time I crawled under one of the work desks to hide.

The Cradle had exploded, leaving the artificial body behind in the rubble, only this time, it was alive on its own. I scanned its form quickly with my own digital processors, hoping to find any trace of syntheticity left. And it was there, but that that didn't connect to the fact that it was moving by itself.

Oh. Did I mention that upon being born Thor decided to fight it? Yeah, that happened. I decided to keep to myself under the desk. I pulled down a laptop from nearby, minding my own business, hoping I could be useful and figure out where Ultron relocated to. It got quiet after a while and I peered out to see why. The _Thing_ was just hovering there, as if it were watching the horrible NYC traffic.

"Where's Amelia?" I heard Dad ask, almost panicked. "Kid? Where'd you go?"

He did tend to get nervous when I wasn't in his line of sight, so I crawled out, still holding the laptop. "I'm right here. I don't particularly enjoy when you guys decide to fight each other, considering I have no way of protecting myself when you do. Maybe keep that in mind next time?"

"You need protection?"

I heard and accented voice from behind me. It was Pietro. Of course.

"Don't even think about it." Dad warned him, and I grinned.

The Thing hovered closer, saying, "The young one is correct in her caution towards—"

"We don't really have time to get into this right now." Dad interrupted.

"Agreed." Clint added. "Natasha's been gone for too long already. We need to get moving and find out where he's taken her."

"Oh!" I raised my hand, watching a scroll of text in the corner of my eye. It was twitter, and posts were coming in about a batshit-crazy flying robot. "He's in Sokovia."

"Then we must go now." The Thing, speaking eloquently in JARVIS's voice, was now walking around us. I think he was giving a rousing speech about why he must help the team kill Ultron and how he can't prove his trustworthiness. Meanwhile, I was watching the live-stream videos being posted all over the social media. What? If I have the ability to watch youtube without anyone noticing cause only I can see and hear it, why wouldn't I?

I only started paying attention when the Thing handed Thor his outrageously big hammer. Nice. Power move. That gets everyone's attention obviously.

"So," I interrupted the silence. "What's his name? Dad, Doctor Banner, it's your baby so what are we gonna call him?"

They both gave me a look that it was not the time for that. I shrugged and started to pack up my backpack with tech equipment I thought I might want. Everyone was preparing for battle and I didn't really know what to do with myself. Dad was getting put in danger _again_ , and I didn't know how to handle that either.

What if he didn't get through this one? We'd just gotten each other back. I didn't want to lose him again. Then I'd be an orphan. A real one this time, not the one I imagined I was when my mom died, and all of this started. I mean, I was an adult now, but I sure as hell didn't feel like one.

"You okay, kid?" Dad's voice came from behind me. I hadn't realized I had spaced out for a few minutes. I was sure that everyone was in the Quinjet already, waiting for us.

I turned around quickly to hug him, only to hit my head on his stupid suit of nickel-titanium alloy. "Owwww…"

He laughed as he pulled me gently into his embrace. "You're not worried, are you?"

"Of course, I am." I frowned into the reactor, having to squint because it was so bright. Eventually I said, "I don't want to lose you too."

"Hey." Dad pulled back to look me in the eye. "You're not going to lose me."

"How can you be sure? Ultron hates you, he hates all of the Avengers—"

"I just know, okay?" He said, calming me down and pressing a kiss to my forehead. We're going to get through this."

I nodded, unconvinced. We boarded the jet silently and sat down next to each other as I programmed our flight trajectory. As I settled down Dad handed me an envelope.

"What's this?" I asked, not opening it just yet.

"Before you disappeared I filed to change your last name." He began. "I didn't know if you would want to, so I never completed the final form, but it was approved by a judge, so the only thing you have to do is sign. I mean, only if you want—"

"Yes." I smiled, genuinely happy. "Yes."

I tore open the envelope and Dad handed me a pen. My signature was about to change. This was the last time I would sign myself as Amelia Mason. From now on I was Amelia Stark.

Though he didn't cry, I could tell his eyes were glassy. So were mine. I squeezed his hand as Steve started to go over the game plan.


	21. Chapter 21

I waited in agony on the Quinjet as the plan was carried out, step by step. I had no fighting experience. I couldn't help. In actuality, I was a liability. In the end, I had evacuated the Quinjet in order to help Sokovian citizens aboard the helicarrier as their city descended into destruction. The comm system was down at the moment, and I used every extra second searching the skies for my newfound family. It frightened me that I couldn't see much. There was so much dust and pollution in air that it almost made it hard to breath, much less see.

Suddenly I saw an explosion of red, wispy magic. It was aggressive and loud, shaking the ground and making the new passengers fall to their knees as they tried to climb aboard. I didn't have time to watch the chaos that ensued. I reached out a hand to the nearest person, holding onto the railing while simultaneously trying to ignore the frightening drop below that the gap presented.

An unsettling feeling washed over me as I helped the last person to safety. It was so tangible that I shivered involuntarily, searching the skies and streets for anyone.

There—in the distance was Steve. He passed, not speaking a word as I watched for the others. Clint passed, Pietro in his arms. I could only hope he was alright, not able to leave my post.

The helicarrier shook when the Hulk landed. He dropped Romanoff on the deck and jumped off again. Then the capital of Sokovia started to fall from the sky. The whole world seemed to shutter and shake as lighting exploded in the sky along with a centralized beam of light. In my heart I knew it was Dad, plummeting towards the earth, my heart along with him.

The city shattered like glass, breaking into thousands of pieces of rubble, raining down on the land below. I waited, hardly breathing, for Dad to return. Wanda came back in the arms of the Synthetic Man, and then Thor. I stood there for what felt like forever until I could hear the faint sound of repulsors firing at a staccato rate. I peered over the edge as he ascended, attempting to keep his stability even though the repulsors were firing on and off.

As soon as he was close enough, I reached out my hands and helped pull him aboard.

He was alive.

We'd made it.

Or so I'd thought.

Third Person P.O.V.

It had only been a week when Pietro was buried. Amelia had taken it better than expected, though it was thought that she was hiding her pain inside. The funeral was short. Only the team was there, and not even all of them. Thor had returned to Asgard. Dr. Banner was still missing, currently presumed dead.

It was a silent affair.

Tony Stark stood behind his daughter, his hands on her shoulders, not only to comfort her but to stabilize himself. Vision, as he was finally named, also stood among the small group. Even as the young hero's body was lowered into the ground those present knew this was a turning point in each of their relationships.

Both Clint Barton and Tony Stark were leaving the Avengers. Stark, of course, had already set up a new facility for those remaining in upstate New York where no one would bother them. It was a new team, therefore a new start. He wouldn't admit it, but he hoped they could be better than what he'd helped create. He wasn't one to shy away from the advancement of—well, anything.

After the ceremony was over everyone shook hands and left. They knew they would meet again, even understanding that when it happened they wouldn't be on the best terms. But out of respect for the dead, those terms were put off for later.

As for the Starks, they relocated, deciding to settle down in New York City. It was close enough if anything arose but far enough away that they could try to forget about what had happened.

Eventually the most pressing piece of world news was titled: "Amelia Stark, the New Face of Stark Industries".

It was a year later when Amelia led a school tour through the old Avengers Tower. Midtown High was supposed to be a school that promoted advanced academics, not that she got that feel from most of the kids in her tour group. A few stood out, especially one particular freshman who seemed extremely interested in everything going on around him.

Amelia let the class wander around one of the experimental labs, so she could talk to him.

"Excuse me," She said. "You seem to be remarkably involved in the tour. What's your name?"

"Peter Parker, ma'am." He replied, almost visibly shaken to even be in her presence. They got to talking, however, and Amelia got the feeling that this kid from Midtown High would become so much more important than he seemed.

It was time to go, so turned to get everyone's attention.

Peter interrupted before she even got the chance, "Thank you for the tour, Miss Stark."

She smiled.

It was a nice name.

The end.


End file.
